


Dreaming of Him

by Loneliness_of_Evening



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, M/M, Mobster Bucky, Modern AU, Nanny Steve, Recreational Drug Use, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loneliness_of_Evening/pseuds/Loneliness_of_Evening
Summary: New York City hosts millions of different people living vastly different lives.  Some people are nannies who dream of being artists, and some are mobsters who dream of being more than the big guys’ drivers.  A chance meeting—rather a chance game of nose goes—brings these two people together, and a simple knock at the door becomes fate.  But can fate avoid disaster?  Or will they both be left alone with only dreams?****My submission for the Stucky Big Bang 2017!  It's my first big bang and I'm super excited to share my work with everyone!!Please go check out the amazing art that Hannah created just for my writinghere!!Kim also created an amazing piece of art for my fic, so go check it outhere!!





	1. Disaster Averted

“GET IN THE FUCKING CAR, YOU FUCKING IDIOT,” Bucky yells as he can hear the sirens screaming down the street.  Vlad jumps in the car, and Bucky steps on it before the passenger door is even closed.  “What the fuck took you so long?” he reprimands.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist a few onion rings,” Vlad says calmly, with a smirk.

Bucky is fuming, checking his rearview mirror to find that the cops are way too close.  

“You fucking gluttonous dumbass.  You know Boris doesn’t like it when we’ve got a tail.  Do _you_ want to try and fucking lose them?”

“Buck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t call me Buck.  And give me a fucking onion ring.”

Vlad sheepishly hands the driver the fried delicacy from the restaurant he’d been collecting fees from.

“You had to bash any heads?” Bucky asks.

“Nah, it was fine.  ‘Til the fucking cops showed.   They were stalling, I should’ve seen it.  Didn’t want to give me the money.”

“Yeah good one.  Alright, you know where the second car is?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Vlad mumbles through onion rings.

“Then get the fuck out,” Bucky says, shaking his head and pulling into a dark ally.  The two of them jump out and ditch the car, running in opposite directions.  Bucky dumps his blue jacket and picks up a black sweatshirt, pulling the hood down on his face.  He walks a few blocks, waiting for the sirens to get further away before he doubles back and meets Vlad at the backup car.  

“Hey, sorry about that,” Vlad says, when Bucky shows up.  “I know how much Boris hates to lose a car.”

“No need to apologize,” Bucky replies.  “To me, anyway.”

 

Bucky is grumbling and really fucking pissed when he gets home at 3am that night.  Natasha sits awake on the couch, and a sleeping Clint has his head in her lap.  

“Hey,” she says, turning the TV off, careful not to wake her boyfriend.  “How’d it go?”

Touching the lightly bleeding cut on his lips, he grunts, “How d’you think?  I was driving for Vlad, and that greedy fuck took way too long to get out.  We had to dump a car.”

“Shit,” Nat sighs.  “That from my dad?”

Bucky shakes his head.  “Nah, your dad only hits you.”

Natasha gives a sad smirk.  “You told him it was Vlad’s fault, right?”

“Fuck no, ‘snitches get stitches.’  I’ll heal, Nat.”

She rolls her eyes and then pats Clint’s face.  “Clint, baby, get up.  Bucky’s home, let’s go to bed.”

Clint shoots up, accidentally shouting, “What?  What’s wrong?  What time is it?”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky laughs.  “Turn his fucking hearing aid on.”

Nat does just that and Clint gives one last, “Huh?” and then winces.  “Sorry guys,” he says in a normal volume.  “What were you saying?”

Natasha kisses his cheek and says, “It’s time for bed.”

Clint stands up, needing a moment to balance, before slapping Bucky’s hand and clapping his back.  “Nasty cut there,” he says.

“I think I’ll live,” Bucky replies, and goes for a glass of water as Natasha and Clint retreat to their bedroom.  He plops himself down on the couch and turns the news on.  No mentions of the Russians, or the restaurant he’d visited earlier, which is good.  He doesn’t need Boris Romanoff any madder at him than he already is.  Being Natasha’s friend, Bucky was lucky enough to get off with the one blow to the jaw.  He left hearing Vlad’s screams as tonight’s punching bag.  Life isn’t easy in the Russian mob, but being best friends with the boss’ daughter since he was in preschool and she was in first grade helps.  Bucky’s family had always been involved with the mob, and Bucky’s mother had done anything she could to get him on Natasha’s good side.  Even as a 5 year old, Nat had been a little shit.  Clint had come around when he and Nat were in fourth grade.  He wasn’t even a little Russian—a scotsman, through and through—but Boris had pretty much adopted him when the Italians had left that pipe bomb in the dance studio that left Clint orphaned and mostly deaf.

Now, almost fifteen years later, the three of them are living the high life in a nice apartment complex that Boris owns.  Nat and Clint are going to be together forever, and Bucky doesn’t feel like a third wheel.  Clint is in med school, Natasha has taken over the dance studio after her mother passed two years ago, and Bucky is slowly making his way through the ranks.  He’s only a driver now because Boris is trying to protect his daughter’s best friend, but soon, once he proves himself, he’ll be making the calls, taking the cash from local businesses, fucking the Italians up.  He’ll do a better job of it than Vlad does, that’s for damn sure.

****

Steve takes his last sip of his triple shot mocha (iced, duh) before punching in the code to get into the May-Coulson’s building.  Sam called in sick, so he’ll be alone with all eight—Steve shudders—of the kids.  Steve loves them, he really does, but they just…  They’re just such a handful, even with Sam.  After typing in the code wrong five times with coffee-induced-shaking hands, he knows it’s going to be a hard day.  He’s alone in the elevator, which is nice, so he goes through his morning ritual before seeing the kids.

“Fuck, shit, god damn, motherfucking, shit, ass, fuck, cunt.”

The doors slide open as soon as the last word has left his mouth, and Jemma and Leo are waiting for him, their bright eyes widening as soon as they see him.

“STEVE!” they yell in unison, attacking the tall man once he steps out.  

“Bunnies!” Steve says affectionately, hugging the siblings.  Forgetting all his worries, his heart melts as the five year old twins attach themselves to each of his legs and he trods down the hall to their apartment.  Opening the door he finds the May-Coulson household to be the normal early morning crazy.  Melinda is running around in a pantsuit, yelling at Phil and the kids.  

“Jemma and Leopold, there you are.  You know better than to leave the apartment,” she says firmly, pouring black coffee in a travel mug for Phil.  

“Sorry, mom!” the twins shout, letting go of Steve and running to play with their blocks.  

“Steve, hi,” Melinda says quickly, before running back to her room to grab her husband.  “Can you do his tie?”

Steve laughs.  “Of course.”

Phil sulks as his kid’s nanny ties the tie in less than 20 seconds.  “Hey, Steve,” he says.  “Are you gonna be okay without Sam?”

“Uh, I think so.”

“Okay.  Uh, good luck with Daisy, she went through a bit of a phase this weekend.  I’m hoping it’s over and done, but you know her.  She, Lincoln, Mac, and Grant are all still asleep.  I’ll never understand how they don’t wake up to this chaos.”  He gestures to his wife and the four youngest.

Just then, Mac emerges from his and Daisy’s shared room and gives his adoptive father a hug.  “You know, Phil, coffee’s really bad for you,” the serious 11 year old says.  “It’ll rot your teeth right off.”

“I know, Macaroni.  You know, you _can_ call me dad.”

Mac shrugs and says, “You _can_ not call me Macaroni.  Also, if you know coffee will rot your teeth, but you drink it anyway, isn’t it okay for us to have candy for breakfast even though it’ll rot our teeth?”  

Phil looks at Steve with wide eyes full of fear, and says, “We’ll talk about that later, Mac.”

Melinda joins them all at the door and after a hundred kisses to each of the kids, the couple make it out alive.  Steve isn’t so sure that’ll be his fate.

“Okay!” he says, clapping his hands loudly.  “Everyone to the couch!”

Magically, all five siblings listen, and Bobbi, Lance, Jemma, and Leo stay quiet for the next half hour, entranced by Disney Jr. while Steve and Mac makes eggs and bacon.  It’s the smell that wakes the rest of the kids up.  Grant and Lincoln come in fighting as per usual.  Steve hands Mac the spatula so he can settle things.

“Hey,” he says, approaching the kids.  “What is it this time?”

“Grant stole my covers!” Lincoln hollers, fat tears threatening to overflow.  

“You two sleep in separate beds, how is that even possible?”

Grant shrugs innocently.

“He-he-he got up in the mi-i-i-iddle of the night and stoooooole it!” Lincoln howls.

“Grant,” Steve says warningly.

Grant rolls his eyes and mutters, “Sorry.”  He gives his brother the smallest, most pitiful hug Steve has ever seen and takes off to the living room.

“No!  Get back here, right now,” Steve orders.  “I want you to stand here until you are ready to apologize.”  He gives the blond little boy a hug of his own and wipes away his tears.  “Lincoln, go ahead and join your siblings.”

Lincoln patters off and jumps on a bean bag, while Grant pouts, crossing his arms and furrowing his dark eyebrows.  

“Don’t give me that look,” Steve says and feels a tiny bit bad, when Grant’s lip starts to quiver.  Sam is the one who can get Grant to calm down, usually.  They have this weird connection that Steve can’t imitate, so he’s left staring silently at the boy.  “Are you ready to apologize?” he asks after a few minutes.

Grant nods.  

“Will you mean it?”

He nods again.  

“Lincoln, come back for a second?”

The younger one comes back, tears already forgotten, laughing about something Mickey Mouse just said.  

“Go ahead, Grant.”

“I’m sorry,” Grant sighs, looking down.  

“Grant, look him in the eye, please.”

He tries again, “I’m sorry, Link.”

“For…” Steve coaxes.

“For stealing your covers.  It wasn’t nice and I’m sorry.  I love you.”

“Good, Lincoln what do you say?”

“It’s okay, Granty.  I love you too.”

The boys hug without having to be told and Steve mentally pats himself on the back.  He steers them both into the living room and seats them on different bean bags on opposite sides of the room.  

Disaster averted.

Then he returns to the kitchen.

“Mac!” he cries, seeing the eggs have been burnt to a crisp.  

“You didn’t come back, Steve.  I’m not supposed to touch the stove.”

Steve drops his head in his hands and says, “Just go watch TV, please.”  He takes a couple more eggs out of the fridge to start over, and when he turns back, Daisy is standing in the doorway, and Steve almost drops the eggs.

“Uh, hi, Daisy.”  She’s gotten into her mother’s makeup, or something, and has tried to line her eyes.  She looks like a really horribly drawn raccoon.

“Call me Skye,” she says quietly.  “I’m emo now.”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it, and just lets her join the rest of the kids.  

“Oh boy.”

****

Bucky is well on his way to cloud 9 the next afternoon when there is a knock at the apartment door.  He looks at his roommates and they all immediately reach for their noses.  Bucky groans when he’s too slow and heads to the door.  Upon opening it, he finds a guy about his age standing in front of him, his hands covered in blood.

“Um.”

“Hi,” the guy says.  “This isn’t my blood.”

“Okay…” Bucky replies.

“Sorry, uh, I’m Steve.  I’m the May-Coulson’s nanny.”

Bucky blinks.  “Pardon?”

“The May-Coulsons?  They live next door?  I’m the nanny.”

“Oh, right.”  When he, Natasha, and Clint had moved into the swanky, fancy-pants apartment, a couple had introduced themselves and their brood of adopted kids, Bucky vaguely remembers.

“That doesn’t explain the blood,” he tells Steve.

“Right, sorry.  Leo got hit and split his head open and most likely needs a few stitches.  I’ve got to take him to the hospital, and I need someone to watch the kids.”

“Uh, you know, Clint back there is a med student, he could probably fix the kid up.”  Bucky turns and hollers loudly so Clint can hear, “Hey Barton!  This guy’s kid needs a few stitches, could you help?”

Too lazy to yell back, Clint signs, “No problem, bring him over.”  Then he adds, “HOT DAMN!” when he gets a good look at Steve.

Bucky flips him off and says, “He can do it.”

Steve peeks into the smoky apartment and his eyes widen.  “You know, I really should take him to the hospital.  I don’t think his parents want him treated by a, uh, student.  Can you please watch the rest of them.  Just for an hour.  Hour and a half at the most.”

“I’m really not qualified,” Bucky stammers, just noticing how tight the guy’s shirt is.

“You don’t have to be.  Just make sure they don’t kill each other for an hour, _please_ ,” Steve pleads and Bucky can’t help but feel the urge to hug him.  “Literally, just put a movie on and they should be fine.”  Steve is frazzled, his bloody hands making him look slightly psychotic, and Bucky groans, knowing he won’t get out of this.

“What’ll it get me?” he asks.

Steve shrugs.  “I don’t know!  A coffee?  Dinner and a movie.  Fuck, dude, I’ll buy you Hamilton tickets if you help me out.”

“Fine.  Hour and a half tops.”  He turns back to his roommates, catching Clint making inappropriate signs and Natasha laughing her ass off.  “Uh, I’ll be back in a bit, I guess,” he tells them and follows Steve down the hall, mourning the joint Natasha has definitely stolen.

“Okay so there are eight of them, but obviously I’ll take Leo, and I’m sure Jemma will want to come because they are inseparable.  So you’ll only have to look after six.”

Bucky’s jaw drops.  “ _Only_ six?”

“Yeah, and most of them will be satisfied with a movie.  Mac might bug you a bit, but it’s only because he’s very mature for his age.  Grant and Lincoln already had three arguments this morning so it should be out of their system.  You really only have to watch out for Bobbi and Lance.  They’ve been getting along eerily well today, so something _will_ come up and it _will_ be the end of the world.”

They stand in front of the door, Bucky trying to commit all the names to memory.

“As for Daisy…  Daisy does what Daisy likes.  Lucky for me, she doesn’t like getting into arguments.  So just let her do her thing.”

“O-Okay,” Bucky says.

Steve opens the door and Bucky’s eyes widen.  There is no way he’s prepared for this.

A couple kids are crying, some are yelling, one sits angrily in the corner, and another sits quietly content in a different corner.

“Hey!” Steve yells, impressing Bucky with how effectively he quiets the kids.  And maybe also with the vein sticking out in his neck.  “Everyone in the living room.  Now.”

Everyone moves and Steve groans.  “No, Mac, Leo, you stay here.  Grant, _stay in timeout_.”

A phone starts to ring and the unreasonably attractive nanny answers, taking over holding the paper towel on the youngest kid’s head.  Leo, Bucky reminds himself.

“Hi, Phil, hold on.  Jem, let go of your brother, please wait in the living room, I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.”  The little girl lets go of Leo and sulks into the living room.  Into the phone, Steve says, “Phil, okay, don’t freak out, but Grant threw a nerf gun at Leo and he’s cut pretty bad.  I’m gonna take him to get stitches, he’s fine, I promise.”

Bucky hears a man on the other end freaking out.

“No, no, it’s fine.  I’ve got a neighbor to watch the kids for now.”  He pauses and glances at Bucky.  “Yeah, it is, but everyone else is gone.  It’ll only be for an hour.”  Another pause, listening to who Bucky assumes is the father.  “No, like the whole gun.  One of the big ones.  He’s in timeout and—” he says this part louder so the boy in the corner can hear, “—he is to stay there until I get back.”  He listens to Phil again.  “No, he’s fine.  Not even crying.  Okay.  I’ll call you when we get home.  Okay.  Bye Phil.  Bye.”

Steve hangs up and sighs.  Addressing Bucky he says, “My phone number is right here.”  He points to a notepad with floral designs and “Notes from Phil’s Desk” written in calligraphy.  “If you need anything call, but please, for the love of all things holy, don’t need anything.”  He leads Bucky to the living room where the kids are whispering and sneaking glances at their neighbor.  “Okay, the oldest there is Mac.  He’s 11, and he can help you with getting a movie in, keeping the younger ones calm.”  The black kid sitting on the couch waves, and Bucky nods back.  “Grant is over in the corner, don’t let him out, he is in _a lot_ of trouble.  Then Daisy’s over there—”

The girl in the other corner turns around, a pout on her face.  “It’s Skye!  I’m emo, remember?”

Bucky stifles a giggle at the raccoon eyeliner the little girl had drawn on herself.

“Right, whatever.  Then there’s Lincoln, Bobbi, and Lance.  Jemma—she and Leo are twins, and the youngest—is coming with me.”

“Okay?”  Bucky’s in way over his head.

“Alright, Jem, let’s go.”

“STEVE!” a girl shouts, standing with her hands on her hips.  “You _can’t_ leave, this guy smells weird.”

“I have weird shampoo,” Bucky says, hoping this child doesn’t know what weed is.  She probably doesn’t, she looks seven.

“I’ll be back soon.  Lance, you get to pick the movie today.  Be nice to, uh, sorry, I didn’t actually get your name.”

“Bucky.  I’m Bucky…  Hello.”

The kids chorus, “Hi Bucky!”  They talk quietly to themselves as Steve, Leo, and Jemma leave.  Bucky stands in front of the six remaining children, wildly unaware of how to care for any of them.

“Uh…  So, that movie?”

The kids all shout at the same time, but a little boy stands on top of the couch to proclaim, “It’s _my_ turn to pick, you peasants.  I wanna watch Die Hard.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Bucky says, “I don’t think that’s the most appropriate movie for you guys.  Maybe something like, I dunno…”  He trails off and opens a cabinet in the large entertainment center.  “What about Cinderella?”

“No, that movie’s for _girls_ ,” the boy—his name is on the tip of Bucky’s tongue, starts with an L—sneers, jumping down and joining Bucky by the TV.  “Let’s watch Beauty and the Beast.”

“Is that one not for girls?  What was your name again?”

“Lance, dummy.  And nah, it’s for everyone.  I mean that beast is crazy cool.”

“Okay, sure, let’s do it.”  He tries to work out the Blu-ray player, but the oldest kid has to help him out.  When the movie finally begins, a hush falls over the children, and Bucky relaxes.  This can’t be too bad, right?

****

In the ER, Steve sits on the edge of a bed with Leo on his lap, holding a now soaking towel to the poor kid’s head.  Jemma sits next to them, crying her eyes out.

“Hey, Jem,” Steve says, using his free hand to rub her back.  “I’m gonna need you to calm down.  Look, Leo’s okay!  He’ll only need a couple of stitches and he might even end up with a really cool scar.  He’s not even crying.”

“I know,” Jemma sobs.  “Leo doesn’t cry, ever, so I have to do it for him!”

With a shake of his head, Steve hopes that her statement doesn’t have some hidden, screwed up meaning behind it.

A nurse comes into their curtained off area, and says, “Hi guys!  My name’s Nurse Sharon.  Alright, Leo, let’s take a look at that cut.”

Steve asks, “Is it okay if he stays on my lap?”

“Absolutely,” Sharon answers, taking the towel away from him and placing it into a baggie.  “It’s actually preferable, as they don’t move around as much when they’re being held.”  To Leo she says, “Alright, bud, I’m gonna numb your forehead a little bit and then get this wound cleaned up, okay?  It’s going to be a quick sting, but then you shouldn’t feel anything after that.  Do you understand?”

“Okay,” Leo says placidly.  He squirms a little when she takes a needle and pricks him near the wound quickly.  Jemma lets out a sob and buries her face in Steve’s leg.

“You’re doing great, Leo,” she soothes him, and sprays sterile water on his forehead before asking, “Now, how did this happen, again?”

Steve sighs, “His brother threw a nerf gun at him, and a sharp corner caught him in the forehead.”

“Oh, ouch,” the nurse says, “Brothers can be pretty nasty sometimes.  I’ve got two of them.”

“I’ve got four.  And three sisters too,” Leo informs her.

“Oh wow, that’s quite a lot.  And this little lady is one of them?”

“Yeah, we’re twins,” Jemma says between sniffles.

“Well your brother is doing wonderfully, and he’s going to be just fine.”

Jemma hiccups.  “Thank you for helping him.”

Sharon smiles widely and replies, “Of course, just doing my job!”  She finishes cleaning the wound and then brings in a tray of sterilized needles, thread, and scissors.  “Alright, Leo, you seem like a pretty chill little dude, so this shouldn’t be painful at all.”

Leo shrugs.  “I am a pretty chill little dude.”

With expert precision and timing, Sharon gets the five stitches in the boy’s head while next to Steve, Jemma whines every time the needle pinches into Leo’s skin.  As expected, Leo only tries to watch her do it, his eyes almost rolled up as far as he can get them.  

With a fresh piece of gauze on Leo’s forehead, Steve steers the kids into the waiting room, where the twins share a seat, hugging each other.  Their nanny deals with the paperwork and soon enough, they are ready to leave.  Jemma has finally stopped crying, and Steve makes Leo hold onto him with both hands to keep him from touching the stitches.  He checks his watch and sees it’s only been 45 minutes, so he decides to get ice cream for the kids.  They stop in at 16 Handles and Steve allows them both get two toppings, getting a small cookies & cream swirl for himself.  As they eat, he makes the two of them promise not to tell the other kids.  

“Do you think because Granty made me bleed, mom and dad will get me a monkey?” Leo asks, his face covered in chocolate.

Steve laughs and says, “I don’t know, buddy, I don’t think a monkey would be very happy in New York.”

“Well they do call it the concrete jungle!” Jemma offers.  They she adds, “I want to be a doctor when I grow up.  So I can make people feel better like that lady did for Leo.”

Steve smiles at the kids, a feeling of love and warmth overwhelming him.  When they finish their treat, Steve hurries the kids into the May-Coulson’s SUV and drives home to a hopefully peaceful household.


	2. Sitting in a Tree

“How?!” Bucky cries as soon as Steve steps through the door.  “How do you do this on a daily basis?”  He’s lost control of the kids, none of them entertained by the movie that’s still playing.  His shoulder length hair is four different ponytails and he has black eye-shadow all around his eyes.  

“Oh God,” Steve mumbles, badly hiding a smirk.

“Shut up.  It was either this or lipstick.”

“It’s cute.”

“I’m going to kill you.  These children are demons.  How do you do it?”

Steve laughs and says, “They grow on you.  Plus they love me, so.”

Three of the six kids in the living room then come running into the doorway all yelling for Steve, hugging his legs.  Skye, or Daisy, whatever, gently hugs Leo and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” the kid answers.  “I got string in my face though.”

“Woah,” Skye whispers.  “That’s super emo, Leo.”

“Cool!”  Leo responds, smiling.

“Hey, everyone go pay attention to the movie, I’m gonna talk to Bucky really quick,” Steve instructs and magically, everyone listens.

“How the hell do you do that?”  Bucky wonders, in awe.

“Hey, no swearing,” the nanny says.  “It’s usually not just me.  My co-nanny, Sam, called in sick today, so of course it’s when everything goes wrong.”

Bucky smirks, “A co-nanny?”

Rolling his eyes, Steve says, “Hey, don’t judge.  We’ve got to make ends meet somehow.  What do you do?”

“Oh, you know, just regular stuff.  I do a lot of custodial work,” Bucky lies.  “And I’m good with cars.”

“You can afford this place on a janitor salary?”

Offended, Bucky says, “How dare you assume you know how much I make…  But no, it’s actually my best friend’s dad’s place.”

“Gotcha.  Well, seriously thanks for this.  Did anything go horribly wrong?”

Pulling out the ponytails in his hair, he says, “I mean, I don’t know what horribly means to you, but you were right.  Bonnie and Lance started fighting.”

With a light laugh, Steve says, “It’s Bobbi.”

“Bobbi, whatever.  They had a huge ordeal over who got what beanbag, and that turned into a freaking civil war.”

Steve nods, knowing Bucky’s pain.  “Yeah, you’ve got to head that one off early.”

With a smirk, Bucky tells him, “I was a little busy getting my hair and makeup done when it started.  Speaking of, where’s the bathroom so I can wash all this off.”

“What you don’t want to go back to your friends with black eyeshadow?”

Bucky shakes his head.  “No.  No I do not.”

Laughing loudly, Steve says, “It’s down the hall, third door on the right.”

“Thanks, dude.”  He hustles down the hall and finds the bathroom.  It’s definitely lived in, but Bucky doesn’t mind the clutter.  What he does mind is his face.  He makes a noise somewhere between surprise and disgust.  The makeup is everywhere and he can’t believe he’s spent the last hour in it.  It takes him almost ten minutes to get it all off, his skin bright red where he’s rubbed the most stubborn bits. When he rejoins Steve, the nanny offers him fifteen dollars.

“No, hey, I don’t want your money,” Bucky says, pushing Steve’s hand away.  “Besides, I was promised Hamilton tickets.”

“Uh, that’s definitely still my money.  Money that I don’t have.”

“Fine, if not Hamilton, I want that coffee you offered.”

“Sure, sure, of course.  Give me your number and then we can set a date.”

“Oh, wow, asking for my phone number already,” Bucky flirts shamelessly.  He may as well, what with Steve’s impeccable body.

“I come off very strong sometimes, sorry,” Steve responds, definitely missing the joke.

Bucky shrugs.  “No, no, it’s all good.”  An awkward silence causes them both to flush slightly before he says, “So, my number.”

Steve pulls out his phone and fiddles with it for a moment before he says, “Go ahead.”

He rattles off the numbers for the nanny, appreciating the cute crinkle in his forehead as he concentrates.

“Alright.  I’ll text you!” Steve says smiling.

“Okay.  Sounds good.  Coffee it is.”

Walking the neighbor to the door, Steve says, “Seriously, thank you so much for this.  I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“I don’t even want to think what would’ve happened,” Bucky laughs stiffly.  He leaves with a quick shout of goodbye to the kids and a smile to Steve.  

Once back in his apartment, Clint asks, “What happened to your face?”

Bucky collapses onto the couch and says, “A nine-year old girl.  I’m never having kids.”

“But you survived, right?  And the kids survived?  Nothing terrible happened?” Natasha asks

“Just World War III, that’s all,” Bucky answers.

Clint snickers and says, “Hey, that guy’s definitely Daddy material.  In both senses of the word.”

“Oh my god, Barton,” says Bucky, exasperated.  

“What?  I can’t help that I’m bisexual trash,” Clint replies innocently.

Natasha agrees with him.  “He is your type, right?  Tall, buff, blonde?”

“I hate you guys.”

As Nat and Clint sing “Bucky and Steve, sitting in a tree,” Bucky retreats to his room.  He throws his phone on the bed, and immediately regrets that he doesn’t have Steve’s number in it.  Hopefully Steve texts him before he forgets about the coffee date.  He can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face.  Technically it isn’t a date, but…  Stopping himself from overthinking, Bucky reminds himself that he doesn’t know if Steve’s attracted to guys, so he can’t assume anything.  At 4:30, it’s way too early to go to a club and find a stranger to fuck, so he goes back to the living room.  He finds that Nat and Clint relocated to the kitchen, Clint trying to kiss his girlfriend while she makes a peanut butter sandwich.

“You two are gross,” Bucky tells them, accidentally catching Clint’s hands wandering.

Nat snorts.  “That’d be Barton.  I’m just trying to make a sandwich.”

“Make me one too?” Bucky asks and she nods begrudgingly.  Then he says, “You guys want to watch a movie with me?”

“Sorry, what was that?  Too distracted to read lips.”

“Then turn your fucking hear aids back on!” Natasha yells.  

Clint frowns, but complies.  “Sorry, dude, what’d you say?”

“Movie,” Bucky repeats.  “You in?”

“Sure, what movie?”

He says the first one that comes into his head, “Beauty and the Beast?”

His roommates burst out laughing, Nat struggling to say, “Really?  A disney princess movie?”

“Oh shut up.  The kids were watching it—well they were supposed to be watching it.  I realized I’d never seen it.  So, like I kind of want to watch it?”

“Alright, sure, why the fuck not?” Clint says, taking a bite of Nat’s sandwich before heading to the living room, plopping down in front of the TV.  “Do we have it?”

Bucky follows, leaving Nat standing confused in the kitchen.  “Uh, probably not, but I can find it on the internet,” she says.  “Wait, are we actually watching this?”

“We’re all high, and the music is really good,” Clint answers.

There is silence from the kitchen where Bucky hopes a good sandwich is being made for him.

She joins them, eyes narrowed, and hands Bucky the sandwich.  “Take your food, you misogynistic fuck,” she jokes.

He smiles.  “Thanks, dear.  Now get on over here and make me feel like a man.”

She laughs loudly, grabbing her computer and sitting on Clint’s lap.  “Alright, Beauty and the Beast it is.”

****

Steve finally escapes the May-Coulson’s household after his daily 20 minutes of goodbye hugs and kisses.  In the elevator he pulls out his phone and sees that Sam had replied to his text an hour ago.

_Sam Wilson: Dude, I’m sorry I just saw this.  Call me when you’re done today._

His fifteen walk home is spent on the phone with his best friend and co-nanny.

“Hello?” Sam answers in a deep voice.  

“Oh god, you sound disgusting,” Steve says in greeting.

“I feel disgusting too.”

“That sucks.  But also I’m insanely jealous.”

Sam coughs and then replies, “That bad, huh?”

“Worse.  Grant threw a nerf gun at Leo’s head and he needed stitches, so I had to ask one of their neighbors to watch the rest of them.  I’m pretty sure he was high the whole time, but no one else was home and I was panicking.”

“Was he cute?” Sam asks innocently.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve responds, blushing.

Sam laughs, and says, “So he was.”

“I didn’t get a good look at him, I was freaking out!”  That’s a lie.  This Bucky kid is so attractive, Steve is surprised he hadn’t drooled on him.  His eyes were so blue, and his hair was so thick…

“Hello?  Earth to Rogers,” Sam says on the other line.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Steve can hear the smug smile in Sam’s voice.  “You were thinking about his ass weren’t you.”

“Oh my god, Sam.  No.  I wasn’t….”  He finds himself grinning.  “I was thinking about his eyes.”

Sam howls with laughter so loudly, that Steve has to take the phone away from his ear.  “Steve Grant Rogers, _please_ for the love of god, tell me you asked this guy out.”

“Uh, kind of?  I promised him coffee for watching the kids, so.  And I got his number.”

“Oh Steven, my darling, you have lifted my very low spirits.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve tells his friend, “I’ve gotta go, Sam.  Running to the store before I head home.  I’ve gotta get new charcoal pencils.”

In goodbye, Sam starts singing, “Stevie has a date, Stevie has a date!”

“Goodbye Samuel.”

“I’m proud of you buddy!”

He laughs as he hangs up the phone, running into the small craft store across from his apartment building.  He goes for his pencils first, staring longingly at the more expensive ones, and reaching for the cheap set.  After picking those up, he heads the baking aisle, hoping he can find something his roommate, Peggy doesn’t have.  When he selects a small icing tip set, he makes his way to the registers, ready to finally get home.

“Oh Margaret!” he calls when he finally reaches his apartment.  

“Oh Steven!” she returns, running into the tiny kitchen/living room/dining room.  “I heard you’ve got yourself a date!”

“Really?”  He shakes his head.  “Sam was quicker than I thought he’d be.”

“Oh he texted me the minute you hung up.  So, tell me all about him.  What’s his name?  What does he do?  Where did you meet him?”

“Slow down, Peg.  It’s not even a real date.”  He pulls out the icing tips and hands them to her with an award-winning smile.  “I got these for you.”

“Don’t you dare distract me with this much appreciated gift,” Peggy says, offended.  “I love you, Steve, but I need the details.”

He narrows his eyes at her, but sighs and surrenders.  He and Peggy had dated a while ago, but when they’d decided the dating life wasn’t for them, she’d become the closest friend Steve had ever had.  “Fine,” he says.  “His name is Bucky.”

“Oh my god.  Bucky?  Who is this hillbilly?  Steve, are you sure about this?”

Steve sighs, pulling his friend over to the couch.  “Shut up and listen, Peg.”

“Sorry.  Go ahead.”

“Okay, his name is Bucky.  He lives in the May-Coulson’s building, but he’s not rich, his friend’s dad is.”

“Oooo, so not a rich snob, but has a nice place, nice.”

“Peggy.”

“Right, sorry, shutting up now.”

He nods in appreciation.  “Okay, so he’s their neighbor.  So Leo split his head open and needed stitches, and Sam called in sick, so I was alone.  So I went around to neighbor’s places with Leo’s blood on my hands, oh my god.  No one was home until I made it to Bucky’s and he answered and the first thing I said was ‘It’s not my blood.’  Oh my god, Peg, it was so dumb.  So he answers, and he’s clearly faded, and he offers for his roommate to give Leo the stitches?  His roommate’s a med student.  Their apartment was actually smoky, like when you see a mob in the movies, and it smelled like weed.  I was freaking out, so I was just like, ‘Help me!’ and so he finally agrees, and I tell him to just put a movie on.  So I leave and take Leo and Jemma to the hospital and then I came back, and Peggy, he was a mess.  Daisy’s going through an emo phase?  So she put some of Melinda’s black eye shadow all over his face, it was so funny, but also kind of hot?  Like, his eyes are super blue, but with the makeup they looked grey, I hate it, it’s so hot.  So I’m like, alright, here’s money, because I didn’t think he’d actually want to go for coffee, because, I don’t know, he seems straight, but who knows.  So then he’s like, no, I want that coffee, so.  Now I have to get coffee with him, and I just can’t do it without coming on too strong, you know me.”

“Oh I know you alright.”

“I just couldn’t stop looking at him when I got back and wasn’t freaking out.  So.”

“Oh, honey,” Peggy says, laughing and rubbing Steve’s back.  “You’ll be fine.  You didn’t scare Sam away when you were into him!”

“Please don’t remind me about that, Peggy.  The most embarrassing week of my life.  I still can’t believe I didn’t see that he wasn’t into me.”

“Yeah, Sam’s like the straightest person I’ve ever met.  But you got him to kiss you.  So if all else fails, just turn him gay!”

“Peggy…”

“Sorry, not helpful, I know.  Just, see how it goes, Steve.  I really hope things work out for you.”

Steve sinks into the couch cushions, willing his anxiety away.  “Yeah, I hope so too.”

****

Waiting in the car, Bucky sits on his phone while he waits for Anastasia and Katya to finish up the deal.  As he scrolls through facebook, a text appears with a short ding.  

_Unknown Number: Hey, Bucky, it’s Steve, the nanny from next door.  I’ve got the weekend off, obviously, if you want to do coffee?_

Bucky sits up, a grin playing at his face.  

_You: Hey, I’m working tomorrow, but we could so Sunday afternoon?_

_You: *Do_

_Steve the Hot Nanny: Sounds good to me.  How’s 2?_

_You: That works!  The starbucks right outside my building work?_

_Steve the Hot Nanny: Nah, I’ve got somewhere in mind.  Not a star$ if that’s ok?_

_You: Did you really just say star$?_

_Steve the Hot Nanny: Maybe…._

_You: OMG._

_You: *omg, I’m not that excited, autocorrect._

_Steve the Hot Nanny: lol.  Ok, Sunday at 2.  I’ll meet you at your building?_

_You: Cool._

He is startled when the passenger door opens and Katya hops in, Anastasia following suit in the back.

“Let’s go,” Katya says, her accent heavy, which means she’s pissed.  

“How’d it go?”

“How do you think,” Anastasia spits, slapping a briefcase in the seat next to her.

Bucky’s eyes roll in annoyance as he starts to drive.  “They didn’t take it?”

Katya shakes her head.  “They didn’t have the fucking money.  Ana had to bust a few balls.”

“Fuck,” Bucky sighs.  “Boris is gonna be _pissed_.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Ana says, rubbing her temples.  “These fucking dealers think they're hot shit, working with us, but hopefully, that showed ‘em not to fuck with us.”

“Plus, they are not afraid of us, because we are women,” Katya says.  “That is mistake.”

“Yeah, the first one I hit, you should’ve seen his face,” Ana laughs.  “He was so surprised, I got an extra shot in the nuts.”

“It was very funny,” Katya says, chuckling.

“Fuck, man, I so wish Boris would let me in on this shit.  I’d much rather be threatening punks with a baseball bat than sitting in the fucking car like a kid running errands with his mom.”

Katya places a hand on his arm, making him release the tension.  “You know it is for safety.  Boris does not want daughter’s best friend dead.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The drive back to the dance studio is quiet and easy.  The dance studio stands as the Russian’s headquarters, owned by Natasha’s father, and previously run by her mother.  After her passing, Nat took over, teaching two classes all while being an important member of the mob.  Bucky plays a quick game of poker in a room filled with cigarette smoke and the smell of weed.  Around two in the morning, he, Nat, and Clint return home, all heading straight to bed.  That night, Bucky dreams about Steve’s eyes.

 

Two days later, Bucky wakes up early, nervous and excited about his date with Steve.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself.  “It’s not a fucking date, Bucky.  You don’t know if he’s gay.”

He makes himself a bowl of cereal and turns on the TV to watch last week’s Game of Thrones.  He checks his phone for the time every twenty minutes for the rest of the day, worried he’ll get a text from the nanny cancelling.  He has no idea where they’re going, but that excites Bucky.  At least there is enough interest there that they’re going to a real coffee shop, instead of a Starbucks.  Bucky smirks when he thinks about the way Steve had written “Star$” the other day.

“You’re cheery this morning,” Clint signs, coming out of his and Nat’s room.  

“Yeah, well I’ve actually got something to look forward to,” Bucky signs back.

Clint uses the sign he’d given Steve, that has something to do with biceps, Bucky remembers.

He rolls his eyes at Clint’s smirk and gives him the finger.  

Clint makes the sign for tree, and Bucky throws a pillow at him.

“You suck,” he says, although he knows Clint can’t hear it or see his lips.

Eventually two o’clock rolls around and Bucky finds himself waiting in the lobby, staring at the blank screen of his phone, waiting for Steve to meet him.  

“Bucky, hey,” a familiar voice says, and Bucky looks up to see Steve and those _gorgeous_ eyes.

“Hi, Steve.”  They shake hands awkwardly, not sure how to greet each other.  “So where are you taking me?”

“Oh, just this cute little place down a couple blocks.”

Bucky thinks, _Okay, he called it cute, so there’s definitely a possibility that he’s gay._  

To Steve he says, “Cool, cool.  What’s it called?”

“Once Upon a Time,” the nanny answers.  “It’s also a little bookshop, and it’s fairy tale themed, which a lot of people don’t like, but I really enjoy it.”

“That sounds awesome,” Bucky says.  

 _He has to be gay_ , he thinks.

“So, how was your weekend?” Steve asks, making small talk.

“It was good.  Just kind of chilled and worked.”

“Nice.  Sam’s feeling better, so he should be back at work on Monday.  So I probably won’t need to beg your services again.”

Bucky laughs.  “No, it was alright.  As crazy as it was, I had fun, I guess.  That Lance is a funny kid.”

“Yeah, he thinks he’s the shit because everyone laughs at his jokes.  Did he tell you his favorite one?”

“The buttfo one?”

Steve nods.  “He tells every new person he’s ever met.  ‘What do you call a UFO that looks like a butt?’  And everyone laughs because it’s the dumbest thing they’ve ever heard, but Lance thinks it’s because it’s a good joke.”

Bucky gives Steve a side-eye and says, “I thought it was kind of funny.”

Steve tries to hold back a smile before he says, “Buttfo.”

He and Bucky burst out laughing at the stupid and immature joke, getting looks from the strangers around them.

“Here it is,” Steve says, steering Bucky to the door of the coffee shop that he almost missed.  

The light grip that Steve has on his elbow gives him goosebumps as they enter the shop.  He’s hit with the smell of coffee, chocolate chip cookies, and books.  He’s surprised he can recognize the smell as books, but it’s such a distinct, alive scent.

“Okay, so I highly recommend their chai lattes, they are absolutely divine, but also their caramel macchiatos are incredibly sweet.  Of course, if your thing is just regular coffee, that’s great too.  And I’m getting you one of their chocolate chip cookies, they melt in your mouth and it’s like tasting heaven.”

Bucky smiles at the other man, hoping to all the gods that he is at least a little bit gay.  He then chastises himself for applying all the stereotypes to Steve, knowing he wouldn’t want anyone to think the same of him.

****

“I’ll take a medium iced caramel macchiato,” Bucky says to the barista after Steve orders a chai latte and two cookies.

As Steve pays for everything, he watches Bucky run his fingers over a pile of books sitting next to the register.  He bites at the skin around his thumb nail, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear as Steve watches, praying he isn’t being too obvious.

“Uh, sir,” the barista says, snapping him back into reality.  “Your credit card?”

“Oh, shit sorry.  Thanks.”

Bucky snickers at him and says, “Didn’t you tell me to watch my language the other day?”

Steve rolls his eyes.  “Okay, that was because we were around the kids.  I don’t swear around them; Phil would kill me if I did.  But out here in the real world, a fucking sailor would be intimidated by me.”

“Oh, wow, we got a badass over here!”

“Shut up.  I’ll have you know, I’m actually quite the badass.”

Bucky laughs loudly.  “Really?  Tell me, Steve the Nanny, how are you, a nanny, badass?”

Steve looks at him, surprised he actually wants to get into this.  “Alright.  Well, first of all, I nanny eight kids.  You know how hard that is?  And I’ve done it on my own for the past couple days.  I can bench press more than my body weight, and I shot a gun once.”

“Shit, I stand corrected!” Bucky says, looking very impressed.  Steve thinks he catches the guy staring at his biceps.

“Okay, but I can’t really use the gun one.  I was 12 and I cried after I shot it.”

“Steve?” A barista calls, and Steve leaves Bucky exploding with laughter.

“Hey, remember I bought you this coffee,” Steve says when he returns.  

“And remember, I watched six kids for you.”

Eyes narrowing, Steve admits, “Touche.”  

As they drink their coffees, Steve tells Bucky a few of his funniest nannying stories and Bucky tells Steve about going home the other day and watching Beauty and the Beast with his roommates.  All the while, Steve is itching to find out Bucky’s sexuality without sounding like a creep.

“So what do you do when you’re not nannying?” Bucky asks at one point.  “I mean, it’s incredible what you do, but it can’t be the only thing you do.”

“Nah, of course not.  I’m first and foremost a struggling artist of NYC.  Just nannying to pay the rent.”

“I recommend friends with rich parents,” Bucky says.  “That’s how I do it.”

“So which one of your roommates is the spoiled child?” Steve jokes.

“Well, technically Natasha, but her parents pretty much adopted Clint when his mom died.  I’m the charity case.”

“Ha.”  Steve finds a perfect opening in the conversation.  “So, are you and Natasha a thing?”

Bucky almost falls over with silent laughter.  “God, fuck no.  She’s not my type at all.  Even if she was, that girl’s a firecracker and it takes a special kind of crazy to be with her.  And Clint’s that special kind of crazy.”

“Not your type, huh,” Steve says cautiously, trying so hard to seem casual.  

“Yeah,” Bucky says, squinting and then staring at his coffee.  “I’m actually not into girls.  Like at all.”

 _Fuck yes_.

“Oh.  Cool.  Yeah.  Uh, me too.  Well, no, I like girls, but I’m into guys too.”

“Shit, really?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

Bucky laughs.  “Dude, that’s awesome.  I’ve been sitting here wondering which way you swing.  Not that it’s any of my business!  But I mean, you’re an attractive guy, and you know, I was just curious or whatever.  Fuck.  I sound like an idiot.  And a fucking psycho.  Sorry.”

Steve smiles widely, and says, “No.  It’s fine.  I’m not even gonna lie, I’ve been trying to find a good way to ask you.”  

“Look at us.  A couple of creepy gays.  Well, a gay and a bisexual.  We make quite the pair, Steve.  What’s your last name by the way?  I need a better way to identify you than ‘Steve the nanny.’”

“Rogers.  Steve Rogers.”

“Well if that isn’t the most American name I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, it gets better.  My birthday is the fourth of July.”

Bucky closes his eyes and leans back.  “Oh my god!”

“And you?  What’s yours?”

“Barnes.”

“Bucky Barnes.  I like the alliteration,” Steve comments, pulling out his phone.

“Well, technically it’s James Barnes.  But I’ve never liked James.  Named after a father who I didn’t like, so I go by Bucky.  Short for Buchanan, my middle name.”

Steve nods.  “Nice.  Well, James Buchanan Barnes.  I’ve actually got to go, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Already?” Bucky asks, pouting a bit.

“Yeah, I’ve got to get a logo finished for some business.  They need it tomorrow morning, and god knows I’ll be drowning in children before I could finish it tomorrow.”

“Alright, I guess duty calls.  We should do this again, though.”

With a smile, Steve replies, “Definitely.  I’ll text you.”

Bucky smiles back.  “Sounds good.”

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment, it’s on the way.”

“Oh gee, a boy who can bench more than his weight is going to walk me home!  I feel so safe with you, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve rolls his eyes, and says, “Come on, punk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters will be up tomorrow!!


	3. Fireworks

Two days later, there is a knock on Bucky’s door again.  Almost as if he knows who it is, he leaps off the couch, not even bothering to play “nose goes.”

He swings the door open, and smiles, finding Steve standing on the other side, also all smiles. 

“Well hey there,” Bucky says, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.  “What brings you over to this neck of the… hallway?”

Steve laughs.  “Sam and I were going to take the kids for ice cream.  Daisy was asking if you wanted to come with.”

“Oh wow, the kids already miss me!” Bucky says happily.  “I’m honored.”

“You should be.  They’ve had other sitters before, like on weekends, when Sam and I are off.  They usually hate them.  So you want to come?”

“I would love to!” Bucky says. 

Steve says, “Come on.”  He grabs Bucky’s hand and it feels so natural.  Steve’s hand is soft against Bucky’s course palm.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Bucky calls to his roommates, and they smile back, knowingly.  He follows Steve back to the May-Coulson’s apartment, where eight kids stand by the door being lathered in sunscreen by another guy about Bucky’s age.  “You must be Sam,” he says, holding out a hand.

Sam takes it and says, “And you must be Bucky with the eyes.”

Bucky hides a grin, and looks at Steve who avoids his gaze and says, “I have no idea what he’s talking about.  Come on, kids, who wants ice cream?”

Everyone shouts and Daisy immediately latches onto Bucky.

“Hi, Bucky,” she says quietly.

“Where’d your eyeliner go?” he asks her.

“Oh, I don’t like it anymore,” she answers.  “I stopped being emo.”

“Okay, kids,” Sam shouts, quieting the youngsters.  “You know the drill.  Do  _ not  _ let go of your buddy’s hand.  And stay in between me and Steve!”

“Yes sir!” everyone yells back, dissolving into giggles as they speak at the same time.

“Alright, Leo and Jemma, you’re up front with Steve,” he continues.  “Grant and Mac are next, Daisy and Lincoln behind them, with Bucky.  And finally, Bobbi, Lance, and I will bring up the rear.”

The two whose names are called last groan and Lance whines, “But Saaaaam, you’re too fast!  And you don’t hold hands softly.”

“That’s because I don’t want you to get hit by a car, dear,” Sam says, patting the boy’s head.

Steve gives Sam a knowing look and adds, “Remember, do not talk to strangers and  _ do not stop _ .  Or you’ll be in big trouble.  Okay.  Are you ready kids?”

They chorus, “Aye-aye, Captain!”

Lincoln starts singing, “Whoooooo lives in a pine—Ow!”  He cries out when Grant turns around and punches him in the arm.

“Grant Ward May-Coulson,” Sam shouts.  “That’s five minutes of time-out when we get home.  Keep it up, and you won’t be getting ice cream.”

Bucky wipes a smirk off his face before the kids see it.  He thought Steve was impressive the other day, but this Sam kid is one quality nanny.

“Okay, let’s go!” Steve says, winking at Bucky.

Daisy squeezes his hand in excitement and he feigns pain.  “Oh my gosh, Skye, you’re so strong!”

“It’s Daisy again,” she says, looking pleased with herself. 

The party of 11 then shuffles out of the apartment, down the hall, and then separates into two elevators.  

Steve, and four of the kids end up in one elevator while Sam, Bucky, and the rest squish into another.

“So, you and Steve, huh?” Sam asks on the ride down.

“Uh,” Bucky stutters.

Sam laughs. “Relax dude, I’m excited for him, he’s really single.”

Bucky laughs awkwardly.

“Seriously, you should ask him out again.  Take him to an art museum, he loves that crap.”

Bobbi gasps.  “Sam!  You said a bad word.”

“No I didn’t, Bobbi, I said an adult word.  It’s not necessarily bad.”

Bobbi gives him a look, but Bucky says, “It’s true, Bobbi.  But he probably shouldn’t have said it in front of kids.”  He raises a joking eyebrow at Sam.

“Oh it’s like that?” the nanny asks.

“Oh, it’s like that.”

“I will say one thing,” Sam says right before the elevator stops.  “If you hurt him I’ll get you.”

Smiling nervously, Bucky says, “I don’t plan on it.”

“Good.  Just lookin’ out for my boy.”

As the doors slide open, Daisy and Lincoln burst out, dragging Bucky along with them.  Seeing that Steve’s elevator hasn’t arrived yet, they jump up and down, yelling, “We won!”

They don’t hesitate to rub it in their siblings’ faces before Steve snaps at them to get in line.

“Guys, I’d like to make it to ice cream in one piece,” he says, trying to corral Jemma and Leo.

Bucky stands in the middle of the line, a child holding each of his hands.  Steve stands at the front of the line, ready and willing to lead all of the kids on a journey to ice cream.

In the midst of keeping his eyes on all the kids at once, he notices something at the front of the line that makes him smile.

_ At least I get to stare at his butt the whole time _ .

****

Returning to the apartment after the longest trip to get ice cream Steve has ever experienced is a relief.  Sam puts the younger ones down for a much needed nap, and Steve directs Grant to his now 15 minute time-out.  Bucky helps Daisy with a puzzle while Steve sets Lincoln up with an educational computer game.  When he finishes, he comes over to Daisy and the neighbor.

“Alright, Daisy, Bucky should probably get home.  He’s not actually getting paid for this like I am.”

Bucky makes a face.  “And here I was thinking I was getting more coffee.”

“Okay, but Bucky, you have to come play with us some more.  Or get ice cream again,” Daisy says, hugging her new friend. 

“I’d love to,” Bucky tells her, but looks at Steve, who smiles back.

He looks down and scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.  “I’ll walk you home?” he suggests.

Bucky rolls his eyes.  “Wow, Steve Rogers, my hero.”

“Shut up, ya punk.”

He leads Bucky out of the apartment, and they walk slowly back to Bucky’s.  They can’t move slow enough for Steve’s liking.

“This was fun,” Bucky says with a smile that makes Steve’s heart jump out of his chest.

“It was.  The kids seriously love you.  I think you’re pretty cool too.”

_ Oh my god, Steve, that was so dumb _ , he scolds himself.

“Welp,” Bucky starts when they reach his door.  “We’re here.”

Steve nods, his lips pursed.  “That we are.”

“So.  Should I expect coffee this time?”

“I don’t know, I did save you from Leo spilling melted ice cream all over your very nice leather jacket.”

Bucky smiles, locking eyes with Steve, and biting his lip.  “Fine, I guess it’s my turn.  Steve Rogers, my hero, want to grab a coffee some time?  I’m buying.”

“Well, if you’re buying, I guess I can’t resist.”

Suddenly, even though he’s standing still, Steve trips over nothing, and falls into Bucky.  As Bucky catches him, he apologizes profusely, quickly turning a bright shade of pink.  He tries to right himself, but Bucky still has his hands on his shoulders and everything freezes.  The only thing in Steve’s world is Bucky.  Bucky’s eyes, which are looking a pale shade of green today.  Bucky’s lips, which are pink and perfect.  Bucky.

Bucky pulls Steve closer, and the heat of his breath forces more color to flush Steve’s face.  

“Hi,” Steve breathes, his eyes stuck on Bucky’s lips.

“Hey,” Bucky replies.  “I know we just met.  And we don’t really know each other yet.  But you’re cute.  And you have a nice butt.  So I’m going to kiss you now.”

Speechless, Steve nods.  He closes his eyes and it’s like fireworks as Bucky’s lips connect with his own.  He reaches for Bucky’s waist, pulling him as close as they could be.  One of Bucky’s hands reach around Steve’s back, while the other wanders up to Steve’s face, caressing his cheek softly.  Steve vaguely hears someone open a door and say something, but it doesn’t matter.  Nothing matters but Bucky.

The kiss ends all too soon, both Steve and Bucky stepping back in shock and awe and excitement.  

“Um,” Bucky starts, but has nothing to finish.

Steve takes a deep breath, unable to take his eyes off of Bucky.  “That was…”

_ Nice, wonderful, beautiful, life saving _ .  Steve has so much to say, but can’t pick one feeling to describe the miracle that was the kiss.

“So that date?”  Bucky says, breathily.

“Yeah.  I accept.  Let’s do it.  Coffee.  I should get back to Sam and the kids.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitch, and Steve finally forces himself to look away, knowing the longer he stares, the less he’ll want to return to his job.

“That’s probably a good idea.  I’ll text you though.  We’ll pick a day.”

“Okay,” Steve says, chewing on a fingernail.  “Okay.  Bye.”

“See ya.”

Practically floating down the hall, Steve touches his still tingling lips and blushes, unable to help the giggle that bursts out of him.  

“Oh my god,” he whispers, trying to compose himself before returning to Sam and the kids.  He is giddy, he is light, and he is happy.  Happier than he’s been in a long time.  After his ex-boyfriend, Tony, broke up with him, he’s been in a funk that he couldn’t get out of.  But after that kiss.  It’s clear to Steve that Bucky is his escape into a better, happier world.

He takes a deep breath, attempts to tone down his ear to ear grin, and returns to the May-Coulson apartment.

Sam waits by the door and pounces on his friend the moment he walks in.

“So you were gone a while,” he says.

“Shut up, Sam,” Steve tries to act normal but he feels like he’s glowing and Sam can see it.

“No way.  No way, no way, no way, Steve did you kiss him?”

“Shut up, Sam.”  But there was no getting out of this one.

“Shut up.  Oh my god, Steve.  How was it?  Was it perfect?  Was it wonderful?  Tell me everything.”

Steve pushes him away and says, “Sam, the kids…”

“Are occupied with other things.  Tell.  Me.  Everything.”

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Steve says, “Fine.  Okay.  Yeah, we kissed.  It was fine.”

“Fine my butt.”

Steve stares at Sam for a moment, unsure of how to put his feelings into words.

“Sam, it was incredible.  It was the single best moment of my life.  It was warm, it was perfect, I am deceased.”

Sam uncharacteristically squeals, and Steve blushes again.  “Oh my god, Steven, I am so proud of you.”  He pulls Steve into a hug and laughs at his resistance.  “Seriously, I’m so happy for you.  Your art has been so depressing lately!”

“Oh my  _ god _ .”  Steve covers his face with his hands and Lincoln walks up to the two nannies.

“Steve, are you okay?” the boy asks.  “Sam, is Steve crying?”

“No, buddy,” Sam answers.  “He’s just really happy because Bucky gave him a present.”

“What’d he give you,” Lincoln queries.

Steve rubs his forehead.  “It’s a kind of present that only Bucky and I can see.  It’s invisible to everyone else.”

“Woah,” the little one says, his eyes widening.  “That’s so cool.”

“It is cool, buddy,” Steve agrees.  “It’s really cool.”

****

Bucky stands, breathless, outside of his apartment, unwilling to let this moment end.

The kiss was… spectacular.  That is the best word that Bucky can come up with.  The “sparks” everyone talks about weren’t so much sparks as they were the grand finale of a Fourth of July fireworks show.  They used to scare the hell out of Bucky as a kid.  They might still scare him now, Bucky realizes.  But he doesn’t know. Steve disappears into the May-Coulson’s down the hall and Bucky lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding.  He pulls his hair into a ponytail as he pulls himself together.  

Finally, he feels ready enough to return to his roommates, so he opens the door and finds them both pressed up against it.

“What the fuck?” he says and they scatter, failing so hard to look natural.  “Were you guys…  Were you guys listening to that?”

“Not on purpose,” Clint replies.  “I was going to grab our mail and you and Steve…”

“So he came back in and called me to the door so we could listen,” Nat says.  “Although, you didn’t say much.”

“Well, we weren’t exactly talking.  We were…  Nevermind.”

“Oh we know, kiddo,” Clint says.  “We know.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky says, brushing past his “Friends” to head to his room.  Immediately after the feeling of pure joy, a sense of edginess and anxiety overcomes him.  He’s not sure why, all he knows is that he needs something to take the edge off.  So obviously he’s going to turn to drugs.  He pulls out his weed, and grabs a lighter, lighting one of the joints.  He takes a long drag, coughing a bit as it’s the first hit.  He blows the smoke out in a single long stream, taking out the ponytail in his hair.  

“Holy shit,” he mutters.  “I kissed Steve Rogers.”  He giggles and takes another hit, this time, blowing out rings.

 

The next morning Bucky awakes, covered in sweat, from a dream that he’ll never explain out loud.  Especially to Steve.  Never to Steve.  He shudders, forcing himself out of bed and into the shower.  With the warm water running from his hair, down his body, and collecting at his feet.  He stands with his face to the stream, letting it cleanse his thoughts.  It doesn’t work.  He stares down at his hardening cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters, but takes it into his hand, resting his other arm against the shower wall.  It doesn’t take long for him to get going, his dick fully hardened as he moans into his elbow to muffle the sound.  If Clint knew what he was doing…  He shakes his head, not wanting to think of his best friend while masturbating, so he turns his mind back to Steve and last night’s dream.  He sees what he can only imagine Steve’s body looks like.  All muscular and sculpted.  He probably has an 8-pack.  He furiously rubs himself up and down, increasing in speed as he gets closer to finishing.  

“Oh god,” comes an elongated groan, the precum gathering at the end of his cock.  “Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whines quietly as he orgasms all over the tiled wall.  He turns to the stream of water again and sighs, letting it wash the sticky mess away.  

He finishes his shower quickly, only half drying his hair before wrapping the towel around his waist.  On the way to the kitchen, he hears Clint and Nat having morning sex, and he doesn’t feel as bad about his impure shower thoughts.  He heads to the fridge and pulls out the orange juice and takes a swig straight from the carton.  With a granola bar in hand, he heads to the living room, but stops at the sound of a knock.  

“Uh,” he says to no one.  After a look at the towel sitting low on his hips, he shrugs and hurries to the door.

It’s Sam.  Of course it’s Sam.

“Oh,” the nanny says.  “Hey, Bucky.  You know what.  I’m gonna get Steve.”

“Wait, what?”  Sam runs away, leaving Bucky half-naked in the doorway.

He closes the door, but remains waiting right behind it.

The second he hears a knock, he opens the door again.  This time it is Steve.  Steve’s eyes widen; he was clearly not warned of Bucky’s current state.

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hello.  Bucky.  You’re not wearing clothes.”

“I’m not.  Why are you here?”

“Um.  I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?”

“No, wait.  Uh, your hat.  You left your hat at the May-Coulson’s yesterday.  Melinda noticed it after Sam and I left.”

“Oh, right.  I forgot.”

“You did.”

“So.”

“So.”

“So that date.  Friday night?  We can go back to that cafe if you want?  Or I can take you to this Russian deli.  It’s kind of in a sketchy neighborhood, but the sandwiches are good.”

“Yeah.  That sounds good,” Steve says.  “The Deli.”

“Awesome.  My uncle works there so he’ll treat us nice,” Bucky replies.  “What time are you off of work?”

“We get off early on Fridays.  At two o’clock,” he tells Bucky.  “I’ve got to work on some art stuff before we go, but I can be done with that by five.”

“Alright, I’ll pick you up at five-thirty?”

Steve nods, beaming.  “Yeah.  five-thirty.”

“Good.  Well.  You should probably get back to Sam and the kids.  And I should put pants on.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Steve says, blushing.  “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

“Okay.  Tell Daisy and everyone I say hi.”

“Will do.”

They say their goodbyes, and Bucky retreats into his apartment, his towel slipping off as the door closes.  And apparently just in time for Nat and Clint to finally leave their bedroom.

“Oh wow,” Clint says.  

Nat just looks at him in approval.

“Fuck.”

****

At five-twenty seven, Steve is putting the final touches on the sketch some guy on the internet is paying him to do.  When he first started doing commissions, he told himself that his drawings would have standards.  That they’d be on an incredibly professional level.  Yet here he was…  Sketching literal porn for some 25 year old kid without a life.  It was gross, but honestly, it’s the best way for him to make money nowadays.  Well this and nannying.  Anyway.  He puts his charcoal pencil down just as there are three short raps on his door.

He hurries to open it, smiling widely to find Bucky in ripped black jeans and a simple grey t-shirt.  

“Hey you.”

Bucky practically pounces on Steve, bringing him in for a hug.  “Hi!” he cries.  

Steve laughs, and says, “You’re eager today.”

“I’m excited about this.  A real date!  Plus, I get to see your apartment.”  He invites himself in, and Steve is very grateful that Peggy is sleeping over at a friend’s house.  “Oh my god,” Bucky squeals.  “This is so quaint!  And tiny.”

Steve giggles, watching Bucky look through his tiny space.  Before he can get to Steve’s kitchen table, he hides the drawing, having no doubt that Bucky would make fun of it.

“Come on, Buck, we should get going,” Steve says, trying to corral the guy.  

Bucky stops short.  “I don’t like it when people call me Buck.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No, no.  I don’t like usually.  But you, Steve.  Steven.  Stevie?”  Steve makes a face and Bucky grins.  “Stevie.  I like the way you say it.  It’s different.”

“Alright, Buck.  Let’s go, you punk.”

Bucky blinks up at Steve, bounding to his side and reaching for his hand.  “Okay, let’s go.”

Their hands fit together like puzzle pieces and Steve’s heart skips a beat.  They cling to each other on the walk to the deli, which turns out is only five minutes away from Steve’s place.  Inside, everyone greets Bucky like he’s a hero returned from war.  Steve hangs back for a moment, unsure of how to greet these people.

However, Bucky has no doubts.  He pulls Steve up to the counter and says, “ привет!  Hey guys.  This is Steve, my date.  Steve, this is my Uncle Andrei, and his buddies, Ivan, Konstantin, and Valentin.  I’ve known them all my whole life, and practically grew up in this deli.  We don’t have books or anything, but since you’re with me, you’ll be treated like family.”

The biggest man there, Bucky’s uncle, says, “Unless you break his heart.  Then we break your face!”

Steve gulps and all four men howl with laughter at his face.

“Hey, hey, hey, go easy on him,” Bucky says.  “I kinda wanna keep him around.”

Steve smiles at that, and squeezes the hand he’s still holding.  

Bucky delves into an explanation of the menu, but Steve can hardly keep up with all the Russian words he throws into the description.  

When he finishes, all Steve can say is, “What?”

“He’ll have a BLT,” Bucky orders for him.  “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Regular for you, James?” Andrei asks.

“Of course.”

The food is ready in record timing, and Steve smiles, appreciating everything Bucky’s family is doing for him.  Not to mention, the sandwich is absolutely delicious.

“Fuck,” Steve moans after his first bite.

Bucky gives him a side-eye and chuckles.

“What?” Steve asks.  “It’s really good.”

“Nothing.  Just.  Reminded me of something.”

Steve rolls his eyes.  

As they eat, the four men who are working tell Steve embarrassing stories of Bucky’s youth, and he ends up laughing so hard he cries.  On the other hand, Bucky pouts and glares at his uncle.  Though it seems all too soon for Steve, four hours later, the men have to start getting things closed up, so he and Bucky leave them to their job.  They link arms and walk down the street, to nowhere in particular.  They end up in a tiny park, where they hand out a couple unsold sandwiches to some of the homeless people wandering around, and throw old bread to the squirrels.  Watching four different squirrels fight over the last piece of bread, Steve lays his head on Bucky’s shoulder.  

“So I guess it’s my turn to walk you home,” Bucky says, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist.  

“I guess so,” Steve responds, draping his arm over Bucky’s shoulders.  “Lead the way, Buck.”

“After you Stevie.”


	4. Brunch?  That's Gay

They are back at Steve’s building, and Bucky is doing everything he can to get Steve to invite him up.  It’s slow going; Steve can’t seem to take the hint.

“So your apartment is super cozy,” he starts approvingly.  

“Yeah, it can be,” Steve says.  “Sometimes it just gets so crowded, especially when my roommate, Peggy has her friends over.  Peg and I used to date, so I get the evil eye anytime I see one of them.  It doesn’t matter that the breakup was mutual, or that we’re even better friends now.”

“Hold up,” Bucky says.  “You live with your ex-girlfriend?”

“Yeah.  But she’s super cool, and it would never be something you’d have to worry about, I promise.  She’s actually at a friend’s house for the night if you want to come up.”

_ Fucking finally, Steve _ , Bucky thinks. 

He says, “Yeah, that would be cool.”  He follows Steve into the building, up the elevator, and to his tiny apartment.

“Sorry it’s such a mess.  Peggy and I are both artists, so we’ve always got random shit lying around.”

“She’s an artist too?  That’s cool.”

“Well, she bakes.  Decorates cakes and stuff, she’s really good.”

Bucky spies something hidden on the table that catches his interest.  “So,” he starts.  “Peggy wouldn’t’ve drawn this, then?”

Steve goes white and stutters,  “That—That’s not what you think.”

“Oh, isn’t it though?”

“No, fuck, Bucky let me explain.”

“No need to explain, Stevie, I get it.”  He really looks at the picture and raises an eyebrow.  “Shit, man, this is really fucking good.”

“I know, dumbass.”  Steve carefully snatches the drawing out of Bucky’s hands.  “I do art commissions on tumblr.”

“You do what, where?”

Steve sighs.  “I offer my services as an artist on a blogging website called tumblr.  Basically people pay me to draw them something.  Just another way to make rent.”

Bucky squints at him before saying, “Dude…  You’re an art prostitute.”

“Oh my god, Buck!”

“What, you were the one that said ‘offer my services.’  Art prostitute.  I mean, look at this.  It’s art  _ porn _ , Stevie.”

“Stop it, I’m not a prostitute.”

“Art prostitute,” Bucky corrects.  “It’s literally porn, Rogers.”

Steve crosses his arms defensively and says, “Hey, I just draw what people want me to draw.  This girl is paying me to draw a picture of her OTP, Destiel, naked and… touching each other.  I’m going to give her her money’s worth,  _ Barnes _ .  And I’m fucking great at it.”

Bucky smiles.  “You are, Stevie.  You’re really good.  I have no idea what ‘OTP’ and ‘Destiel’ are, but this is real talent.”

“OTP is one true pairing and Destiel is a ship from Supernatural.  Dean and Castiel.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nevermind.”

“So, are you going to show me your room?” Bucky asks.

Steve smiles.  “Sure.  Fair warning, it’s a mess and super tiny.  Peggy got the big one because she has a real job with a real income, so she pays more than her share.”

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, sliding over to him.  “Stop talking about your ex-girlfriend.”

Biting his lip, Steve says, “Sorry.  Come on, I’ll show you where the magic happens.”

“That sounds promising,” says Bucky with a toothy grin.

He follows a disgruntled Steve down a short hallway to a room that was definitely not clean.   _ But _ it was more “cluttered” than “messy.”  There are art supplies scattered over his floor, his desk, and his dresser.  His walls are hidden underneath paintings, framed drawings, and pictures of Steve and some people Bucky doesn’t recognize.  

“Fuck, Steve, I can’t handle this talent.  It’s very distracting,” 

Steve moves fluidly up to Bucky, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.  “First of all, that’s not all mine, I’m not that conceited.  Secondly, I’ll be able to keep you focused.”

“Oh?”

Bucky turns around in Steve’s arms and they kiss.  Steve’s hands move from his waist to his head, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, clean hair.  Bucky’s hands hover for a moment before gripping Steve’s ass.  The sudden contact shocks Steve a bit and he smirks into the kiss.  Pulling back, Bucky smiles, locking eyes with Steve.

Steve falters, but regains his composure quickly.  Suddenly, he pushes Bucky towards the bed, and Bucky’s grin widens.  

“Are you— Do you— Is this okay?” Steve asks, before pushing him all the way down.  

“Yeah.  Yes.  Steve, please.”

Steve takes the permission with a wicked look and reaches for the bottom of Bucky’s shirt, pulling it over his head with ease.  

Bucky’s hands are shaking with excitement as he fumbles around with Steve’s sweater.  He blushes when he doesn’t manage to make it work.

“Shhh,” Steve comforts.  “It’s okay, Buck.”

He undresses himself, and Bucky falls onto the bed, hit by the sheer perfection of his body.  Feeling himself getting hard, Bucky stares in awe, the image he’d dreamed up yesterday was nothing compared to the treasure that is Steve Roger’s chiseled abs, the thin paintbrush tattooed on his collarbone, and his biceps, which somehow look bigger than when they’re squeezed into a shirt.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers.  “This.  You.”  He’s speechless.

“Is this okay, Bucky?”

Bucky shakes his head.  “Steve, this is more than okay.  Oh my god, Steve, please.   _ Please _ just fuck me.”

Steve slowly unzips his jeans.  “Okay.”

Bucky’s eyes widen.  Steve, in all his glory, walks towards him, leans down, and kisses him.  Bucky moans into the kiss and Steve chuckles.  “We haven’t even started.”

“I know, I’m getting really impatient, please, Steve, I need you in me now.  Right now, hurry, Steve, please.”

“Turn around,” Steve commands, and Bucky hurries to obey.  Steve’s cold hands run down his spine and Bucky shudders.

“Oh shit, fuck, Steve, don’t do that, Jesus Christ, this isn’t going to take long.”

“Shhhh,” Steve murmurs.  “Just hold on, Buck.  It’s okay.”

He moves two fingers under the waistline of Bucky’s pants and boxers, pulling them off in one swift motion, revealing his bare, white ass.  Steve stares for a moment, appreciating the view when Bucky whines, “Please, Stevie, do  _ something _ .  Anything.”

Steve smirks, but asks, “You’re sure?  I don’t want to do something that—”

“Rogers, put it in me right now.”

“You sure like the dirty talk.”

“Steve,” Bucky almost cries, craving any sort of physical contact.  Steve reaches towards his bedside table and pulls out a condom, and some lube.  As he situates everything, he kisses Bucky’s neck, sucking softly, and Bucky feels drops of sweat rolling down his forehead.  Steve gently pushes Bucky forward so he balances on his elbows and knees, ass straight up in the air.  He rubs the lube over three of his fingers, and Bucky lets out a gasp when one of them graces over his asshole.  “Come on, Stevie, come on.”

Steve presses his first finger into Bucky who moans now, pulling a pillow closer to him.  Steve thrusts his finger back and forth, easing the tightness enough to add a second finger. 

“Ahhh,” Bucky says.  “Oh god, Steve, keep going.”

Steve adds a third finger into play and Bucky literally squeals.  Steve pulls out, worried, but Bucky shakes his head.  “No, keep going, I’m fine.”  He pants as Steve deems him loose enough.  Steve pulls his hard dick up to Bucky’s ass and slowly thrusts into his entrance, smiling at Bucky’s howl of delight.  “Shit, I’m closer than I should be, Steve.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Steve replies, holding onto Bucky’s hips as he thrusts again and again, deeper and deeper.  Bucky cries out in time with Steve’s rhythm, who makes sure Bucky is okay, but not ready to orgasm every few seconds.

Bucky bites the pillow and screams, on the verge.  “Steve, I’m gonna cum!” he warns, his knuckles white as he grips Steve’s sheets.  “Steve?”

“Not yet!” Steve says, though Bucky can tell he’s close as well.  As he tries to keep himself under control, Bucky clenches his cheeks, and that sends Steve over the edge.  He shouts, “Oh my god!” as he orgasms into Bucky.

Bucky tries in vain to hold off, but Steve’s exclamation and orgasm forces him to cum all over the sheets, wailing, “Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

****

Steve falls back on his bed, next to a dirty, panting, sweaty Bucky.  He winks and smiles at the boy, just realizing how hot he is as well.  He and Peggy should get the AC fixed.  

Bucky sighs, and curls into a ball, avoiding the puddle of cum he’d left on Steve’s bed.  He reaches over and grabs Steve’s hand, intertwining his fingers with Steve’s.

“Shit,” he says and Steve laughs.  

“That was good,” he agrees.  “Uh, I’m gonna change my sheets if that’s okay?”

Bucky smirks.  “Sorry.”  

“No, no, it’s cool.  It’s just, if I don’t take care of it right away, I’m never gonna do it, and we’re not sleeping in dried cum.”

“We?”

Steve blushes.  He’s so bad at asking people to sleep over.  “Yeah, if you want to stay over it’s cool.  Unless you’ve got to get home?”

Bucky smiles, and Steve melts.  “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Good.”  They stand, and Bucky pulls his boxers back on as Steve pulls his sheets off the bed and throws them in a basket in the corner.

“Take care of it, huh?”

“Shut up, Buck.”  He makes quick and sloppy work of remaking the bed, pulls his own underwear back on, and pulls Bucky back into bed.  They lay down, facing each other, and Bucky leans in for a kiss.  It’s short, but Steve doesn’t mind.  He’s tired, anyway.  Nannying can do that to a person.  Besides, Bucky’s eyelids are droopy too.  So he turns around and Bucky tucks in close, holding him close with his arm.  He kisses the back of Steve’s neck, and breathes in deep, making Steve shudder.  “Goodnight, Buck.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

 

The next morning, they make their relationship Facebook official.  They're up early so they head to a diner for pancakes.  During breakfast they really get to know each other, playing a mostly clean version of 20 questions.  

"So what's your family like," Steve asks, after telling Bucky about his most embarrassing moment in high school.  

Bucky purses his lips and says, "Ah, they're nothing special.  I've got three younger siblings who've all gotten the fuck outta town.  They take after my dad who left when my youngest sister was born—she was an accident, then my mom died six years ago.  She was awesome.  You know, big, 'ol Russian lady married an American douchebag so she could move to NYC.  That’s how I met Nat, she comes from a big Russian family too.”

Steve nods.  “Nice.  My family’s Irish, but it’s just me and my mom.  My dad died when I was young, but my mom is a fucking hero, too.”

Bucky checks his watch and says, “Alright, I’ve only got a half hour until I’ve got to head to work.  Let’s see, what’s your greatest achievement?”

“Fuck, I don’t know!  Okay, let’s see.”  He looks up at nothing and thinks hard.  He hasn’t done too much with his life so far, aside receiving a few useless awards from back in college.  “Okay, this is going to sound dumb, but in college—I went to art school—we had these exhibition things every month, and they were long, boring, and stupid.  Basically a bunch of old people would walk around, and ask you the same questions over and over.  For the most part, they weren’t a huge deal.  Sometimes you’d sell a piece or whatever.  But usually not, so my buddies and I would get high before hand so it wasn’t so tedious.”

“You, Steve Rogers, all-American Nanny, have been high?”

Steve raises an eyebrow and looks Bucky in the eye.  “Buck, I went to  _ art school _ .  In New York City.  I’ve smoked my fair share of weed.

“Anyway, this one time, some big name art collector was gonna come, because he apparently had nothing better to do.  And I just happened to be working on my best piece I’ve ever created, so I decided to actually try at this thing.  I lost so much sleep over that one fucking painting, and it was so good.  So I didn’t get high, I powered through all the old people.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide.  “He bought your painting?  That’s so cool!”

He looks confused as Steve shakes his head.  “Nah, he didn’t even glance in my direction.”

“So, what was your…”

“My greatest accomplishment was that I spent four hours telling old ladies where I got my inspiration, completely sober.”

Bucky laughs out loud as Steve shudders at the memory.  “That is pretty impressive, Rogers.”  He glances at his watch again and says, “We should have time for one more, go ahead and ask.”

Steve thinks for a moment.  “Do you have any role models?”

Bucky nods.  “Easy.  Boris Romanoff, Nat’s father.  He’s kind of a father figure to a lot of people, and he does a great job of it.  He’s strict, but everyone respects him.  Plus he runs his operation really well.”

“His operation?” 

“Uh, the dance studio he runs.  We call it an operation, it’s stupid.”

Steve smiles, “No, that’s cute.  Do you dance?”

With a bark of laughter, Bucky replies, “No.  Not anymore.  My mom made me take ballet when I was a kid, but I hated it.”

“Oh my god, please tell me there are pictures of tiny Bucky Barnes in a little tutu!”

“None that will ever see the light of day.”

Steve snickers, and downs his cup of coffee.  “So you’ve got to head to work?”

“Yeah.  I’ve got some very important janitoring to do.”

“You’ve got some pretty weird hours for a janitor.”

“Well, it’s mostly odd job type janitoring.  Saturday is ‘Hardcore Cleaning Day’ at the studio.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Oh it is.  I even made up a song.”  Bucky smiles and takes Steve’s hand.  “You want to walk me to the door?”

“Of course.”

 

On his way home, Steve thinks about the goodbye kiss he and Bucky just shared.  It was short, but not rushed, and it was just as special as the previous kisses they’d shared.  The memory makes him feel warm and fuzzy, a light tingle still playing at his lips.  

After he’s almost hit by some dude on a bike, Steve decides to stop daydreaming and pay attention to his surroundings.  He calls Sam, who answers with a groan.

“Up and at ‘em!” Steve yells.  “Wanna go to the gym with me?”

“Steve, why the fuck are you so awake?”

“Dude, it’s almost noon.”

“My point exactly.”

“Get up, meet me at the gym.  I have shit to tell you.”

“Argh, fine!” Sam yells, and in his mind’s eye, Steve sees him rising out of bed like a mummy in an old horror film.  “I want you to know I’m only coming for the gossip, Steven.”

“I know, Samuel.  See you in 15.”

“Half an hour.  I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Steve smiles as he hangs up, and starts his workout at his building; he takes the stairs up to his ninth floor apartment.  Half an hour later, he greets Sam at the gym with a big smile.   Sam responds with a grunt.  

“Good afternoon, my friend,” Steve says brightly, giving his friend a high five.

Sam replies, “Fuck you, Steven.  You ran here, didn’t you?”

“So what if I did?”

“You disgust me.”   Steve playfully throws a towel at Sam who catches it with ease.  “Spot me,” he demands.  “I get to go first today.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Steve follows Sam to a bench and watches the man add weight after weight.  While it isn’t as much as Steve can lift, it’s still impressive.  He waits patiently and spots carefully while Sam does his thing.  When he finally finishes, his blue t-shirt is soaked with sweat.  Steve flashes him his pearly whites, getting the finger in return.  He adds a few more pounds while Sam rolls his eyes.  Taking his turn, he breathes in time with every lift as Sam watches on.  

“So that gossip you promised?” he asks when Steve finally finishes.  

“I went on another date with Bucky.”

“I know.  How’d it go?” he asks with a knowing smile.

Steve gives him a silly grin.  “It was good.  Really fun.  He took me to this deli that his uncle owns and we had the most amazing sandwiches.”

“Girl, you know those aren’t the details I want.”

Steve rolls his eyes as they walk up to a couple of treadmills.  “Fine.  Afterwards, we, uh.  Yeah, I invited him up.”

“And you fucked him.”

Steve flushes, and he looks down.  “Oh my god, shut up, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes light up and he claps loudly.  “Alright!  That is my  _ boy _ !  Dude, I’m so happy for you.  My boy got laid!”

“Literally, shut the fuck up.  I hate you so much, oh my god,” Steve groans, staring at his shoes as he runs.  He shuts out Sam’s giggles for the next half hour, breathing heavily.  When his friend throws an empty water bottle at him, he knows it’s time to move on.  He heads over to the leg press, and Sam groans beside him. 

“Steve, please.  Please, can we skip leg day?”

Steve shakes his head and says, “Never skip leg day, Wilson.”

Sam fake whimpers, but he keeps the complaining to a minimum.  Although, with the complaints on hold, the prying questions come flowing out.

“So who topped?” he asks, and Steve almost breaks his ankle.  

“Holy fuck, there is no beating around the bush with you, is there?”

Sam shrugs, and waits for an answer.

“It’s none of your business, Sam.  Don’t make me regret telling you at all.”

Sam raises an eyebrow and asks instead, “Okay, who came first?”

Steve squeaks and says, “I’m disowning you as a friend.”

“Come on, you know you want to tell me.”

“I really do not.”

“Fine,” Sam grunts, straining against the machine.  “I’ll let you off, but only because of this girl who’s on her way over.  Quick, pretend I’m better than you.”

Steve laughs out loud, and acts as though the workout is much harder than it is.  

“Hey,” Sam says suavely as she sits next to him.  She raises an eyebrow, sticks a pair of earbuds in and gets to working out.  Sam frowns, and looks to Steve for support, but his friend is dying of laughter.  “Man, fuck this.”

****

Trying to keep from smiling too wide, Bucky has a skip in his step when he enters the studio.  Natasha smirks at him, and Clint punches him in the shoulder.

“Hell fucking yeah,” he says, pulling Bucky into a side hug.  “You guys do it?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but admits, “You know we did.”

“Congratulations, Barnes,” Natasha says dryly.  “Turns out you’ve still got it.”

“Yeah, we were all worried for a while,” Clint says.  “After Jim, you just haven’t gotten any.  I mean besides drunk strippers.”

Bucky glares at his friends.  “Thanks for the reminder, guys.”

Clint shrugs.  “Sorry, bud.  Nat and I were seriously worried though.”

“Fuck you, Barton.”

The three of them enter the back room of the studio where Boris, Vlad, and Katya sit at a poker table.

Boris stands to greet them all.  “Natasha, Clint, Bucky, I’m glad you’re all here.  Come sit.”

They do so, Nat and Clint sharing a seat so Boris still has room to sit.  Bucky tries to help himself to a carton of french fries, but Katya smacks his hand away.  

“You are all children,” Boris says, rolling his eyes.  “We must get down to business.  We have heads to smash, people.”

“Sorry, dad,” Natasha apologizes for her friend, kicking him under the table.  

“We have a very important job tomorrow tonight,” the mob boss says, taking a fry for himself.  “The Italians are moving in on our territory, and we can’t have that.  I want the five of you to meet with them and get them to back the fuck off.  Katya will handle negotiations.  Clint, I want you to get to high ground, just in case.  And have your rifle ready.  Natasha and Vlad will handle the baseball bats.  And Bucky—”

“In the car,” Bucky sighs.

Boris raises a very bushy eyebrow.  “I’m sorry, do you have a problem with that, James?”

“No, of course not, sorry sir.”  Running his hand through his hair, he looks across the table where both Natasha and Clint are shaking their heads.

After that, Bucky tunes Boris out.  He doesn’t need to know the details other than what car he’ll be driving.  Instead, he plays with his phone under the table.  When the meeting finally ends, he, Nat, and Clint leave together.  Bucky hadn’t realized how long Boris had kept them, but the sun is setting as the three of them walk down Fifth Avenue.  

“Hey,” Bucky starts, interrupting Nat and Clint’s gross, whispered, lovey dovey conversation.  “Do you think Boris will ever let me do anything besides drive?”

“Aww, is poor little Bucky feeling left out?” Clint asks, earning an elbow from Natasha and a wicked side-eye from Bucky.  “Sorry.”

Natasha says, “You know he’s just trying to keep you safe.  He promised your mom he would.  And he knows I’d kill him if he let my best friend get hurt.”

Bucky scoffs, “But it’s okay if your boyfriend is put in harm’s way?”

“He knows I can take care of myself!”  Clint gets another round of elbows and side-eyes.  

“Clint’s not in harm’s way.  He’s doing his weird hawk thing where he sits in the rafters, out of sight.  He’s a sniper, and Boris isn’t moving him from that position, because he knows—we all know—that he wouldn’t be able to handle being up close and personal with the Italians.  Or anyone for that matter.  He couldn’t punch someone if he wanted to.  But he can snipe the hell out of anyone.”

Clint looks at his girlfriend with narrowed eyes, visibly offended.  “Rude,” he says.  “Just keep that in mind, Ms. Romanoff.  I can snipe the hell out of  _ anyone _ .”

“Oh please, you couldn’t snipe me.  You love me too much.”

Clint doesn’t respond, he just cross his arms and starts mumbling angrily.  Natasha and Bucky snicker, prompting him to turn off his hearing aids and flip them both off.  

Natasha turns back to Bucky.  “In all seriousness, my dad has his reasons for keeping you in a car.  You’re good at it.  I don’t really know any car chase movies, but you’re at that level… probably.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nat.”

“Bucky.  You’re better suited for it, and you know it.”  She takes a breath before she cautiously says, “I don’t want to call you fragile, but—”

“But I’m breakable,” Bucky sighs.  

“You just weren’t made for hurting people.  Or getting hurt.  I’m sorry, that’s a shitty thing to say to a friend.”

“Nah, Nat.  You’re just being honest.  You’re a much better friend than some assholes I know,” he responds, glaring at Clint who notices and yells, “WHAT?”

Bucky and Natasha burst into laughter again.  

****

The next morning, Steve wakes up to a text.

_ Buck: Hey Steve, am I seeing you today? _

_ You: I don’t know Bucky, do you want to? _

_ Buck: I do.  Brunch? _

_ You: That’s gay.  Where? _

_ Buck: You picked the place last time, it’s my turn now.  I’ll pick you up in 30? _

_ Buck: Oh, is it cool if Nat and Clint come? _

_ You: 30 minutes works.  And yeah, they can come, the more the merrier. _

_ Buck: Sweet, see you soon. _

Steve jumps out of bed excitedly and hurries into the shower.  He hadn’t brunched in a while, and especially not a gay brunch.  Thinking back, he remembers going a couple times with Peggy, but when he’d been with Tony, they’d gone almost every Saturday.  Excited, he hopes brunch with Bucky becomes a regular thing.  

Hopping out of the shower and leaving the bathroom, he says to himself, “I can’t believe how ridiculous you’re being.”

“Pardon?” Peggy asks?

Steve turns red, and pulls the towel around his waist a little tighter.  “Uh.  Sorry, talking to myself.”

“You keep that up, you’ll die alone, Rogers.”

“At least I’ll have myself to keep me company, Carter.”

It takes Steve too long to put on clothes.  It’s summer, so maybe he should wear shorts.  But also, the brunch might not be casual, so he should be wearing khakis.  He also has a million and a half shirt options.  After six different outfit changes, and Peggy’s opinion on everything, he settles for a nice pair of teal shorts and a short-sleeved, floral button down.  With Peggy’s seal of approval and a text from Bucky, he gallops down the stairs of his building, bursting outside to where Bucky, Natasha, and Clint for him in a white convertible.  

“Damn, Barnes, this is a nice-ass car,” Steve says, getting into the passenger seat.  

“It’s Nat’s,” Bucky says, pulling out into the New York traffic.  “But I do all the driving.”

From the backseat, Natasha says, “Bucky’s the best driver I’ve ever met.  He knows the streets better than any taxi driver you’ll ever meet.”

“Yeah, ‘cause of all that running from the cops he does,” Clint says, earning him a smack upside the head from Natasha and a “Dude!” from Bucky.  “Jesus, guys, I’m fucking kidding!  Just trying to scare the new boyfriend.”

Steve blushes.

Bucky rubs his temples and says, “Jesus.  Sorry about him, some people just don’t know when to keep their fucking mouths shut.” 

Steve smiles at him.  “No worries.” 

The car is quiet for a minute, and then Clint croons, “Caaaan you feeeel the looooooove toniiiiiiiiiight—”

Everyone choruses, “Shut up!” 

Bucky turns the volume up on the radio while Steve lifts his head, letting the summer sun warm his face.  It’s pure bliss.  And they haven’t even reached the brunch place yet.  The skies are blue, the music is good, and he’s sitting next to a cute guy who wants to be his boyfriend.  Steve honestly doesn't think this could get any better.  

Then they reach the brunch place.

It’s small—a family place—but so quaint and welcoming.  The four of them are seated immediately, and Clint tells their waitress “The usual,” without even looking at a menu.  

“What’s the usual?” Steve asks.

“You’ll see,” Clint replies, winking.  

Steve gives Bucky a worried look, to which Bucky responds by patting Steve’s leg and then leaving his hand there.  “Don’t worry.  We wouldn’t bring you anywhere that wasn’t incredible.  You’ll love the usual.”

“If you say so.”

The wait is longer than it would have been at most places, but Steve doesn’t mind.  He couldn’t mind.  He laughs through the entirety of the table’s conversation, especially when it moves toward embarrassing childhood stories about Bucky.  

“I can’t fucking believe you’re going to tell him about the swing set incident!  I was a freaking kid,” Bucky whines.

Steve’s face lights up.  “Oh this is going to be soooo good.  Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

With an evil grin, Natasha begins, “Okay.  I’ll set the scene.  Bucky’s eight years old.  Clint and I are ten, so we think we’re hot shit, and this stupid kid, Bucky keeps following us around, especially when we hang out at the park in our neighborhood.  Granted we didn’t play at the park, because, as aforementioned we were hot shit.  Bucky did though, and he was always bothering us to play with him, so one day, Clint and I came up with this plan to get him to go away.  We told him that they were going to demolish the park, and build it somewhere else.  We wanted Bucky to try and find where they were going to put it.  You know, an impossible mission.”

“But of course,” Clint says, taking over.  “This extra-ass bitch doesn’t take the route that any normal kid would, a super secret spy mission.  This boy.  Oh my god, he finds a pair of handcuffs from god knows where, and HANDCUFFS HIMSELF TO THE SWING SET AT THE PARK.”

Natasha, Clint, and Steve all explode in laughter as Bucky rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. 

“You’re all assholes,” he says, pouting.

“Assholes who love you, buddy,” Clint says, slapping Bucky’s shoulder.

Calming his laughter now into a giggle, Steve asks, “Oh, Buck, don’t worry, it’s cute.”

After he says “Buck,” he notices that Natasha and Clint share a look.  Before he can think anything of it, though, their food comes.  Bucky was right, Steve is definitely going to love the usual.  But that’s probably because “the usual” is almost everything on the menu.

He looks at Bucky with wide eyes and asks, “How are we supposed to eat all this?”

To that, the three of his brunch-mates burst out laughing.

“That’s funny,” Clint says.  “‘How are we supposed to eat it?’  Bucky, did you bring us an amateur?”

“Is that a challenge?” Steve asks.

“You were the one who didn’t think we’d be able to eat it all.”

“Oh, I’ll be able to eat my fair share.  It’s the rest of you I’m worried about.”

Natasha shakes her head and says, “Steve, it’s not worth it.  We’ll eat it.  And we’ll finish it.  And then we’ll drag ourselves home to sleep through our food comas.”

Steve smirks and looks to Bucky, but he’s already started to dig in.  It doesn’t take long for Steve to follow suit.  

 

They did finish all of the food.  And exactly as Natasha predicted, they groaned about their food babies all the way back to Bucky, Nat, and Clint’s apartment.  Upon arrival, Clint immediately face planted on the couch, and Natasha sat with him, while Bucky took Steve’s hand and led him back to his room.

“Be safe,” Clint yelled after them, and Steve grins when he sees a blush creep into Bucky’s cheeks.

“Sorry about him,” Bucky says, having a seat on his bed.  “He doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“It’s all good,” Steve replies, taking in the bedroom.  

Bucky notices and says, “It’s not much.  Definitely not as cool as your place.”

“No, no, it’s great!”  He runs his fingers over Bucky’s desk, and then picks up the picture frame that sits on it.  “Oh my god.”

“Shit,” Bucky says, jumping up to grab it.

Steve holds it out of his reach easily, taunting the owner of the photo.  “Oh hell no, I’m looking at it.”

“Please don’t.  I didn’t know what a hairbrush was.”

“How old were you?”  In the picture, Natasha and Clint are rolling their eyes at one another, while Bucky smiles widely a few steps apart from them.  “Is this around the time you handcuffed yourself to the swingset?”

With a glare that could cut through stone, Bucky begrudgingly answers, “I’m pretty sure that was literally the day before.  You can see the swingset in the background.”

“This is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.  You were a cute eight year old.”

“Okay, so that means, next time I’m at your place, I get to see embarrassing elementary school pictures from you too, right?”

Steve considers this before saying, “Maybe.  You did already see some of my embarrassing art.”

“How was that embarrassing?” Bucky asks incredulously.  “It was incredible!”

“I know it was good, but the subject matter was weird.  If I recall correctly, you called me an art prostitute and told me I draw porn.”

“I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

Steve only rolls his eyes in response, so Bucky continues, “Alright then draw me something.  Something that isn’t porn.  And I won’t pay you for it, so it’s not prostitution.”

“Ugh, fine.  What should I draw?  And don’t say—”

“Me.”

“Or… do say that.”

“What, you don’t want to draw me?”

“No, it’s just that that’s what everyone asks an artist to draw.  But you’re cute, so I guess I’ll do it.”

“Shut up, punk.”

“Jerk.  You got art supplies anywhere?”

Looking around his room for a moment, Bucky reaches into his desk and pulls out a pencil.   “I have a pencil?”

Steve takes it, and says, “That’ll do.  Paper?”

“Oh right,” Bucky says, rummaging through his desk a little more.  When he doesn’t find anything, he runs out of his room, and comes back with an envelope that he definitely just pulled out of the trash.  “Literally all I could find, sorry.”

Taking the envelope, Steve points to the bed and says, “Sit.”

Bucky does, but it’s unnatural and makes Steve laugh.  “What?!”

“Just relax.  I’m probably just gonna do your face to make it quicker, so you don’t need to pose or anything.  Just, like, lean against the wall or something.”

After Bucky obliges, Steve stares at him for a second, and then he turns to the envelope.  He starts to sketch, looking up at Bucky every once in a while to confirm just how long his hair is, or how big his pupils are.  Bucky is silent, which Steve takes as respect and appreciates it, but he doesn’t like working in silence.  “You know, you don’t have to be quiet.  Tell me about your weekend.  How was work yesterday?”

“It was okay,” Bucky starts.  “I’m just kind of annoyed at my boss, Nat’s dad.  He just doesn’t see my potential, you know?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.  I could be doing a lot for the operation… the studio.  You know, as a janitor.  But he’s got me doing the easy stuff.  The boring stuff.  I don’t know, I feel like I could be doing more.”

“You should stand up to him.  Tell him.”

“Ha.  You’ve never met Boris, so I’ll let that slide.  But that doesn’t happen.  He’s a scary dude.”

“He runs a dance studio, Buck, what’s to be scared of?”

“He runs it like… like a gang.  He calls it ‘The Operation,’ and he acts like a mob boss.  I mean, he’s really good at what he does, but he’s intense, and you just don’t stand up to him.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very good boss, you should quit,” Steve says, working on shading.  

“I can’t.  Because as much of an ass as he is, I do really respect him.  He made sure my family always had someone or somewhere whenever my dad failed to do exactly that.  I pretty much owe him my life.  Plus, if I quit, I won’t be able to stay here.  And I’ll see a lot less of Nat and Clint.  I love those two idiots.”

“Well then, I am not sure what advice to give.”

“It’s all good, I don’t need advice.  Just needed a second to vent.  How’s the picture going?”

“Well.  I’m almost done.  Just a few finishing touches.  And then… I’m…. done.”  Steve picks up the envelope and hands it over to Bucky.  “What do you think?”

Bucky takes the drawing and his jaw drops.  “Holy shit, Steve.”

“You like it?”

“Do I like it?  It’s like looking in a fucking mirror!”

Steve shakes his head and chuckles.  “Well not really.  Probably closer to looking at a picture of yourself, the image isn’t reversed.”

Bucky looks up, his mouth a straight line.  “You know what I mean, Stevie.  This took you ten minutes?”

“Yeah.  It’d be better if I actually took the time to sit down and do a realistic portrait with colored pencils and shit, but it’s definitely one of my better sketches.”

“‘It could be better.’  Steve, I love it.  Look in my desk, is there a thumbtack in there?”

Steve opens a few drawers and when he doesn’t find one, he says, “No thumbtacks, but I’ve got a nail, haha.”

“Oh perfect, give it here,” Bucky says, reaching for it.  

“Uh, really?”

“It’s good and deserves to be on a wall.  Give me the nail.”

With a shrug, Steve hands it over.  Bucky throws it and the envelope on the side table for a second, and then almost falls off his bed—or at least that’s what it looks like to Steve.  But then he realizes he’s just reaching for something under his bed.

“Uh, what are you—”

Bucky comes up holding a hammer in his hand, shocking Steve into a tiny scream.

“What the fuck, Bucky?  You have no paper, but you have… a hammer… under your bed?!”

“Priorities, obviously,” Bucky jokes.  He then retrieves the envelope and nail and promptly nails the drawing to the wall, right by the head of his bed.  Steve blushes and prays that Bucky doesn’t notice.  He’s used to people appreciating his art, but never such a simple sketch on an envelope.  And definitely not enough to just… nail it to the wall.  No frame or anything.  Just immediately putting it up for display.

Bucky hops off the bed and steps back to admire his handiwork.

“Perfect,” Steve says, standing to join him.

Then suddenly, Bucky turns to him and begins to unbutton his shirt.  “Yeah I lied, you definitely deserve compensation for this, art prostitute.”

“I hate you,” Steve says, but can’t stop the smile from spreading over his face.  He grabs Bucky’s face and pulls him into a kiss, walking him backwards toward the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next two chapters will be up tomorrow! I hope everyone's enjoying it so far :)


	5. The Morning Sex

“He’s gonna be so surprised!” Jemma squeals, literally shaking with excitement.  

Bucky laughs and pats her head.  “He will be.  Luckily I didn’t ruin the surprise last night,” he says, making an oops face at Sam.

“‘I can hold my liquor,’ you said,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.  “‘I’m Russian,’ you said.  I don’t know what led you to believe that Peggy was Steve last night, but thank god you did, otherwise the kids would have been devastated.”

“Wait, you almost told him?!” Daisy cries, handing Sam the sign she’d been painting.  It reads “HAPY BERTHDAY STEEV!”

“It was an accident, I got too dr--”

“Yo, Bucky boy, maybe not in front of the tiny people.”

“Right, sorry.  Uh, I just got  _ so _ excited that I almost spilled the beans.  But I told Peggy instead, just so I could get it out.”

“Yeah, and then you did something else with Peggy,” Sam smirks.

Bucky gives him a look and says, “Hey, nothing happened.  Alright, Jemma, should we get these streamers taped to the ceiling?”

Jemma nods, but then her eyes are clouded by confusion.  “How are we gonna get them on the ceiling?  You’re tall, but not a giant.”

Bucky smiles and wiggles his eyebrows.  “I’ve got a plan, kid.  Do you wanna become a giant?”

The girl’s mouth drops open and her eyes widen.  “Are you a wizard with magical powers that can make me grow?”

“Not quite.  We need one more person to help though.”

She gasps and yells, “I’ll go get Leo!!”  

As she runs off to find her brother, Bucky stretches out his arms in preparation to lift her up.  Sam notices and says, “You lift, bro?”

“Not before Steve and I started dating.  That boy has dragged me to the gym almost every other day for the past three weeks.  I was plenty fit and strong, I don’t need to go to the gym.”

“Yeah, that’s probably my fault,” Sam admits.  “I knew that I could get out of going if he could rope you into it.”

“You jerk.”

Shrugging, Sam helps Daisy tape her sign to the wall, and Jemma comes flying back into the room, dragging Leo behind her.

“Alright, Bucky, what do we do to fly?” she cries.

“Okay, Leo, how do you feel about being tape guy.”

Leo thinks for a minute and says, “That sounds pretty cool.”

“Awesome.  You’re gonna take each streamer stick a piece of tape to it, hand it to me, and then our giant, Jemma, is gonna tape it to the ceiling.”

“Okay, but how are you gonna make me a giant?”

“Come stand in front of me,” Bucky directs, and when she does so, he picks her up by the waist and swings her up over his head and onto his shoulders.  She screams with glee, laughing when she realizes she can touch the ceiling.  

“Leo!” she yells, waving down at him.  “Leo, look, I’m a giant!”

In response, Leo whines, “I wanna do that!”

“When we’ve finished half of the streamers, we’ll switch places, okay, Leo?” Jemma suggests, holding tightly onto Bucky’s head.  

“Okie dokie.”  The five-year-old reaches down for the first streamer, and grabs the tape that Bucky points to.  Bucky then takes the streamer from him and passes it up to Jemma.

She then points to the middle of the room and says, “Let’s start in the middle!”

Bucky makes his way over to where she points, and she sticks the streamer to the ceiling.  

The three of them continue like this for ten streamers, after which Leo and Jemma switch places.  When they finish, they step back to admire their handiwork with Daisy and Sam. 

“What time is it?” Bucky asks, when the rest of the kids wander in from the bedrooms.  

“Almost noon,” Sam replies.  “He’ll be here soon.  Man, I’m so mad my birthday is during a weekend, I want to come in late.”

“Really, Wilson?” Bucky says.  “You’re upset that your birthday is on a weekend?” 

Sam sighs.  “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t be complaining.”

“I’m gonna watch for Steve at the window,” Bobbi says, running through the streamers to the window.  

“You’ve still got fifteen minutes, Bobbi,” Sam warns, but as soon as the girl has her hands and face against the glass she points down below.

“I SEE HIM!” she yells, and the rest of the kids rush over.  

Sam shakes his head and mumbles, “That little shit, coming early on his birthday.”

Jemma spots him, grabs Leo and yells, “We’re waiting for him at the elevator!”

“Are the candles on the cake?!” Mac cries worriedly.  

Sam points to Bucky and says, “You go with the twins, I’ll help Mac.”

“Got it,” Bucky says, running after the little ones who have already slipped out of the apartment.  In the hall, they stand outside the elevator practicing singing “Happy Birthday,” and Jemma squeals every time the numbers get close to their floor.

Once, the doors actually do open, but it’s an older man, not Steve.  Bucky really hopes the twins didn’t startle him into a heart attack when they scream “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU HAPPY— Oh.”  He apologizes over and over, and the kids get antsy.

“Buckyyyy, what’s taking him so long?” Leo asks, popping a squat on the floor and leaning against Bucky’s leg.

“Maybe he had to go to the bathroom?” he suggests, and Jemma groans.  However, as soon as the elevator starts moving up again, they both perk up, jumping and singing.  This time it does stop on their floor, and Steve is the one who steps out.  Immediately, the twins proceed into their scream version of “Happy Birthday.” 

The smile that spreads over Steve’s face is huge, and melts Bucky’s heart just a little…  Okay, maybe a lot.  

When the twins finish serenading their nanny they jump into his outstretched arms to hug him.  He stands and turns his open arms to Bucky who lets himself be pulled into the hug, kissing Steve on the cheek and saying, “Happy Birthday, babe.”

“You can kiss him on the lips, we don’t mind,” Leo says.  “Bobbi says cooties don’t affect adults.”

“Yeah, Lance still thinks it’s gross,” Jemma continues.  “But Lance is a dummy.”

“Jemma, don’t call your brother a dummy,” Steve says before taking Bucky’s chin in his hand and kissing him on the lips.  Then he pulls back and says, “Hold on, Bucky why are you with the twins?”

“Oh, the kids were getting a little rowdy, so Sam texted me,” Bucky answers, subtly winking at the twins, who, unsubtly, start giggling.

Steve narrows his eyes at the kids and says, “Don’t tell me you two were being rowdy.”

“Nah, don’t worry.  They were angels as always,” Bucky reassures him.  “Come on, I’m sure the rest of the kids are eager to say happy birthday.”

The four of them head back to the May-Coulson’s apartment, the kids running ahead to make sure everyone is ready to surprise their nanny.  Before the guys get to the door, Bucky stops them and kisses Steve hard.  

When they pull apart, Steve smiles and asks, “Well what was that for?”

“Happy birthday, you star spangled man.”

Steve chuckles and says, “I love you, cutie.”  He then enters the apartment, leaving Bucky standing shocked in the hall.  The kids shouting “surprise!” inside drives him to open the door, but his thoughts move so fast, he can barely process what just happened.

“Haaaappy birthday to you!” everyone starts to sing as Sam holds a lit cake in front of Steve.  Bucky joins in, but on some sort of autopilot mode.  It was the first time either of them had said I love you.  They’d only been dating for a few weeks…  Bucky can’t even remember the last time someone had said that to him.  Said it and genuinely  _ meant _ it.  And not in a platonic, Natasha kind of way. Pure, romantic love.  That’s what Steve meant--somehow Bucky  _ knows _ he means it.  Maybe it’s because he would mean it too, if he said it.   _ Holy shit _ , he thinks.   _ He loves me.  And I love him _ .  

“...Right, Bucky?”

Pulled out of his panic by Leo’s soft voice, Bucky stammers, “What?”

“You put me and Jemma on your shoulders to make us tall enough to put the streamers up.”

“Oh yeah, that was fun.  Did you show Steve the  pictures?”

Leo’s face scrunches up, confused.  “Bucky, they’re on your phone.”

Bucky laughs and softly hits himself on the forehead.  “Oh, duh.  Hold on.”

While he pulls out his phone, Sam claps his hands and says, “Alright kids, everyone to the kitchen to get lunch.  Then we can have cake!”

The May-Coulsons cheer, and fall in single file to fill their bowls with Mac ‘n’ Cheese.  Bucky moves to follow, but Steve holds him back.

“Dude, are you alright?  I just realized that was the first time either of us had said that, and I know we only just started dating, so I’m sorry if I freaked out, and I can--”

Bucky stops his rambling boyfriend with a kiss.  “I love you too,” he says, pinching Steve’s firm tush and following the children to the food.  He leaves Steve with his mouth hanging open in a half smile, a hand on the pinched cheek.

****

Literally, Steve couldn’t have imagined a better birthday week.  It had started with a quality night of bar hopping with his boyfriend and some of his best friends.  Bucky had gotten so drunk that he let Steve fuck him in two different bathrooms.  Then, he’d gotten to go to work late, and upon arrival was surprised with a cake, decorations, and a whole bunch of sweet, homemade gifts from the kids.  Then he got to watch the fireworks with Bucky, Sam, and the kids from the rooftop.  On Thursday, he and Bucky had dinner with his mom.  Today, after work, Bucky took him on a romantic date to an art museum, and now they are in his, Clint, and Natasha’s living room, rolling joints. 

“Oh my god, this is gonna be so good,” Steve says, watching Bucky roll his joint like an expert.

“When was the last time you got high?” Bucky asks.

“Hold up, this isn’t the first time All-American Steve has been high?” Clint asks, disappointed.  

“Dude, I went to art school,” Steve responds.  “I fucking minored in weed.  And Buck, to answer your question, it’s been, like a year and a half.  My ex didn’t smoke, and didn’t like me smoking.  I’d already started nannying when we broke up, so I just didn’t start up again.  But I’ve been wanting to since we started dating.”

“Aww,  _ Buck _ , he wants to do drugs for you,” Natasha says.

“Hey,  _ Tash _ , watch it,” Bucky says, reaching for the lighter.

“What, he can call you Buck, but no one else can?” Natasha asks.

Steve panics, worried that he’s started a fight.

“Nat.”

“Sorry.”

Steve bites his lip.  “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, why  _ don’t _ you like people calling you Buck?”  Things get quiet and he immediately apologizes, feeling like a dick.

Bucky shakes his head.  “No, it’s okay.  Um, it’s what my dad called me as a kid.”

“Your dad who was an asshole?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, I know it sounds weird…  But I like the way you say it.  He said it like he was mocking me.  You… you say it like you love me.”

The two make eye contact, and Steve follows an instinct to reach out and touch Bucky.  “I do love you, Buck.”

Everything is awkward and quiet again. 

Finally, Clint breaks the silence.  “Okay, I’m not yet high enough for tragic backstories and gross relationship stuff.”

Wordlessly, Bucky hands him the joint and lighter, and he takes the first hit.  “Oh shit,” he says, before blowing out smoke.  “Is this Alexei’s stuff?”

Bucky nods and Natasha takes the next drag, handing it to Steve next.  “Yeah, it’s the good good.”

“The good good?” Steve repeats.

With another nod, Bucky confirms, “The good good.  It’s the best weed you’ll find in the whole city.  Take a hit, you’ll see what I mean.”

Steve brings the joint up to his lips and breathes in.  Bucky was right; Steve can immediately tell how good it is.  It’s an easy hit, and as the conversation moves along, Steve can feel himself getting lighter.  By the time he takes his third turn, he’s definitely feeling it.  Things in his head get light, but his body gets heavy.  He doesn’t realize as it’s happening, but he suddenly realizes he’s leaning on Bucky.

With a smile that rivals the sun when it comes to brightness, he says, “Heeey Bucky.”

Bucky laughs and says, “Look at this loser.  Already done.”

“Done?” Steve repeats, looking concerned.  “I’m not done, gimme the weed.”

Natasha giggles, keeping the weed to herself.  “You’re done.  Your tolerance probably got worse when you stopped smoking.  Also, this is reeeeaaaallllyyy good weed.”  

She takes a hit, and holds the last tiny bit of the joint up for Clint, who says, “It’s okay, buddy.  Someday you’ll be able to play with the big boys.” 

The friends all keep talking, but Steve zones out.  He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s mumbling to himself, and he’s absolutely shocked by how… woah… his hands are so… hands.  “Am I in space?” he whispers, giggling and curling up closer to Bucky.  Oh Bucky.  He loves Bucky.  He loves Bucky so much.  Bucky Bucky Bucky.  “Hey Buck, what if I called you Bucker?” he asks, but Bucky doesn’t hear him.  “Buuuuuucky,” he whines.  “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!”

Bucky looks down at him and says, “Stevie, I know you’re  _ trying _ to say something, but…”  He stops to giggle.  “But you’re not.  There aren’t any sounds happening.”

Steve sighs and gives up.  Instead, he wraps his arms around Bucky’s torso, and kisses Bucky’s thigh over and over again because he loves Bucky.  He loves him just so much.  So much, he’s so nice.

 

Somehow time kept going, and Bucky is telling Steve it’s time to go to bed.  Steve pouts, very comfortable in his current position: laying on his stomach on the couch, his head in Bucky’s crotch, and his arms loose around Bucky’s waist.  

“Come on, Steve, it’s not that far to my room, I promise,” Bucky says.  He motions to Natasha, and all of a sudden, Steve is being lifted off of the couch.  

“Nooooo,” he whines, reaching for Bucky, who stands, and lets the mostly vertical Steve lean on him as they leave the living room.  Behind them, Natasha does the same thing with Clint, fully lifting him off the floor and hoisting him over her shoulder.  

“Night, Bucky,” she calls.

In Bucky’s room, Bucky lets Steve fall onto the bed, and helps him take his nice pants off.  

“Buckyyyyy,” Steve moans.  “Bucky I love you so muuuuch.”

“I love you too, Stevie.”  Bucky takes his own clothes off, and crawls into bed next to Steve.

“Let’s have sex.”

“Uh, I think you’re a little too out of it for sex, babe.”

Steve sighs.  “You right, you right.  Tomorrow.  We’ll have sex tomorrow.”  He gasps.  “Oh my god, let’s do the morning sex tomorrow.”

With a laugh, Bucky says, “Okay.  Morning sex sounds good.  Good night, Steve.”

“Good night, Buck.”

 

They do end up doing the morning sex.  Steve feels incredible after the previous night’s debauchery, so as soon as both he and Bucky have brushed their teeth, Bucky is against the wall with his boxers around his ankles.  Steve stands behind him, lubing up and kissing his boyfriend’s neck and shoulders.  His briefs are around his ankles as well.  Having sex with Bucky makes Steve believe in destiny, despite the fact that he knows how ridiculous it sounds.  But it’s true.  It’s as if they were literally made for each other.  Bucky is just the amount of submissive that Steve likes, and he responds well to Steve’s dominance.  Which is why Steve starts off slow.

“Oh god,” Bucky moans, his head leaning back to rest on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh-uh,” Steve says.  “You don’t get to touch me,” he orders.  He nudges Bucky’s head and Bucky obeys, resting his forehead against the wall instead.  Steve braces himself against the wall, trapping Bucky between his arms.  Still thrusting at a slow pace, Steve whispers into Bucky’s ear, “Ask me to touch you.”

Bucky shudders, clenching around Steve’s cock.  “Touch me, Steve, please, god, touch me.”   
In response, Steve nibbles Bucky’s ear and caresses his nipples.

Now, Bucky braces himself against the wall, and Steve notices little droplets of sweat appear on his back.  When Steve thrusts a little faster and gifts Bucky with some kisses, Bucky groans, clearly itching to start stroking his own dick.  

“Steve, touch me, I’m begging you,” he moans, coaxing a grin to Steve’s face.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Steve mumbles, hot breath on Bucky’s neck.

“Oh my god…  Oh my gooooddd,” Bucky moans as Steve takes his cock in his hand.  Steve strokes in in time with his thrusts, which are getting faster and more aggressive.

“Oh yes, Steve.  Oh god, yes.  Give it to me,” Bucky cries.  “Oh shit.  Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, Stevie.  Steve, I’m cumming!”

Steve would have liked to hold on a little longer, but watching Bucky succumb to his touch brought him to ejaculate as well.

“Oh my god,” he and Bucky say at the same time.  When he finishes, he pulls out, and Bucky barely makes it to the bed before collapsing.

“Oh fuck, Steve,” he mumbles.  “Fuck, that was good.”

“That’s the only way I know how to do it,” Steve says, flexing before laying down next to Bucky.

“Boy, you’re gonna make me cum all over again,” Bucky says, pulling Steve in for a kiss.  “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Oh god, I don’t know,” Steve answers, absentmindedly playing with Bucky’s hair.

“Well, it smells like Nat and Clint are making breakfast, so how about we start with that?”

“That sounds—and smells—incredible.”

The two quickly throw on some clothes, and hurry out to the kitchen, where Clint stands over a frying pan of scrambled eggs.

“Morning lovebirds,” Natasha says without looking up from her phone.

“Oh god, you didn’t hear anything, did you?” Steve asks, embarrassed.

“Well, Clint didn’t, he hasn’t put his hearing aids in yet.  But I certainly heard, ‘Oh Steve,  _ give  _ it to me!’”

“Fuck off, Nat,” Bucky says, whiles Steve feels himself turn a deep shade of tomato.

“You know, I didn’t take you for much of a top, Steve, but if you made Bucky groan like that?  10/10.”

“Natasha Romanoff, I swear to god.”

Steve turns a deeper shade of tomato.

Natasha throws a nearby pen at her boyfriend to get his attention, and signs something at him.  Apparently something about Steve and Bucky’s morning escapades, because Clint signs something to Bucky with a suggestive look on his face.

“Fuck off, Clint,” Bucky says, flipping Clint off.  Steve assumes that means ‘fuck off’ in sign language.

After breakfast, the two go back to Bucky’s room to figure out what to do with the rest of the day.

“We could do more drugs,” Bucky suggests.

“Sounds fun, but I was thinking more along the lines of we could go for a run in the park, or go to the Statue of Liberty or something,” Steve says.

Bucky looks taken aback.  “The Statue of Liberty, really?  What are we, tourists?”

“Hey, the Statue of Liberty is a blast.  But on a Saturday in July, I guess it would be overrun with tourists.  But I’m telling you.  A Tuesday in October?  It’s pretty sweet.”

“Sounds fake, but I guess hit me up on a Tuesday in October.”

“Oh I will.  But today.  What do we do?”

“Sex?”

“Bucky.”

“What!?  We have sex and then think of something else!”

“Okay, yeah that sounds good,” Steve says, shrugging and pulling his shirt off.

****

“Happy two-month anniversary, Buck,” Steve says, holding up his glass of wine to cheers Bucky’s beer.

“I can’t believe we’re celebrating our two month anniversary, Steve.  This is silly,” Bucky says, but inside he’s absolutely giddy.  This is the most serious any of his relationships have been so early in.  Steve is pretty much living with him, and Bucky dreams of him almost every night. 

“I know, but things are so perfect, and this was a nice excuse to go out for a fancy dinner,” Steve says.  “Let me have this!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but smiles.  “It’s all yours, Stevie.”

“So are we watching that movie with Nat and Clint, or are we going right into sex after this?” Steve asks, drawing the judgemental attention of a couple nearby tables.

“Jesus, Steve, we're in a nice establishment,” Bucky whispers.

“Sorry, I might be a little bit tipsy,” Steve replies, giggling.

“But to answer your question, I’d like to see the movie, they rented, but it’s up to you.  If you wanna go straight to the bedroom, we can.”

“Oh god, I don't wanna go  _ straight _ to the bedroom!  But we can go  _ gay  _ into the bedroom.”

Bucky laughs out loud.  “Steve, you’re not even gay!”

“We’re in a gay relationship though, it works!”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met?”

Steve feigns shock.  “Who, me?  Ridiculous?  Sounds fake, but okay.”

Shaking his head, Bucky asks, “So I take it that’s a yes to the straight—sorry, gay to the bedroom plan?”

His boyfriend nods vigorously.  “I’ll rent us that movie another time.  I just…”  He sighs.  “I haven’t seen you for a while, because you’ve been working so much.”

“I know and I’m sorry.”

“No, I get it, work is important.  I’ve just been…”  Taking a quick survey of the closest tables, he leans forward and whispers, “I’ve been really fucking horny, Bucky Barnes, and I need you to fix that.  For really loud sex too.  So if it’s okay, we can go back to my place, because Peggy isn’t home, and I just  _ really _ want to—need to—fuck you so bad.”

Bucky’s breath hitches.  “Oh yeah?  What exactly are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, Buck.  In the fucking face.”

Despite Steve’s drunk, er, poetry, Bucky can feel himself getting hard.

“You’re going to blow me, and I’m gonna cum all over your stupid, gorgeous fucking face.”

Bucky clears his throat, and raise his hand toward the waiter.  “Check please?”

 

Back at Steve’s apartment, the two have an angsty, and quick round of sex.  After cleaning up, they end up naked cuddling in bed.  Bucky lays on his stomach as Steve traces the tattoos on his back and guesses their meanings.  

“So this one is obvious,” Steve says, poking Bucky’s right shoulder blade, where a Russian flag has been inked into his skin.  “You’re in a Russian gang and you get this tattoo when you’re initiated.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding.  It connects you to your roots, right?”

Bucky smiles, “Exactly.”  Steve was close with his first guess.  He, Nat, and Clint had all gotten the flag tattoos together after their first night officially on the job.  “The star,” he says.  “That’s the initiation tattoo.”

Steve laughs.  “Oh, what a bad boy.”  He runs his finger over the red star on Bucky’s bicep.  “Now the WCB one on your ankle.  Initials for someone, right?”

“Yeah, my—”

“No, wait, let me guess.  Was it the first boy you ever loved?  He broke your heart and you always wanted to remember how it turned out?  Or maybe the girl that turned you gay?”

“They’re my mom’s initials, dumbass.”

“Oh shit, Buck, I’m sorry.  I just… it’s clearly not professionally done, I just thought it was some angsty teenage gay shit.”

Bucky chuckles.  “While that is a very legitimate guess, this one wasn’t angsty teenage gay shit.  It was angsty teenage momma’s boy shit.  She died when I was seventeen, and I was too young to get a tattoo, but I had to cope somehow.  So I made Nat give it to me.  It was my first one and got hella infected, but it’s pretty meaningful.”

“That’s really sweet, Buck.  Okay, next tell me about the quote.”

“Well, it’s Russian.”

“No shit.”

The words, “Без труда́ не вы́тащишь и ры́бку из пруда́” are written in a fat column down Bucky’s side.  Bucky explains, “It says ‘ Bez trudá ne výtashchish' i rýbku iz prudá,’ which basically means ‘no pain, no gain.’  But literally it translates to ‘Without effort, you can’t even pull a fish from a pond.”

“Ah, that explains the fish on your chest,” Steve says.  

“Exactly.”

“Well they’re all super cool, babe, I love them.”

“Wait, you forgot one!” Bucky says, sitting up.  

Steve looks the other man up and down.  “Are you sure?  I don’t see anything else.”

Bucky grins.  “It’s a secret tattoo.  No one knows that I have it, ‘cause it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh, Buck, don’t say that!”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky says, “I’m not embarrassed about you seeing it.  It’s just.  I mean, you said it yourself, I’m a bad boy.  I have a reputation to uphold.  And, uh.  A pride flag tattoo behind my ear doesn’t quite work with that reputation.”

Steve brings his hands to his face in shock and excitement.  As Bucky pulls his hair back and folds his ear over, he reaches out to touch the tiny tattoo.  There are seven thin and short lines, each a color of the gay pride flag.  “Buck, it’s so fucking cute I love it.”

Bucky laughs.  “I’m glad.  So tell me about yours.  A paintbrush because you’re an artist?”

“Yup,” Steve says.  “It’s my only one.  In college one night, my friends were all planning on getting one, and talked me into it.”

“Well it’s hot as fuck.  Are you planning on getting anymore?”

With a shrug, Steve says, “I don’t know.  Maybe if I think of something with enough meaning.  What about you?  Want anything else?”

“Oh absolutely!” Bucky answers.  “I don’t have any ideas right now, but I’m sure I’ll get more.”

“Well, if you ever come up with anything, I’d love to draw it for you.  I’ve done that for a couple of my friends before, and so far I haven’t heard any complaints.”

Bucky rests his chin on his fist and says, “Holy shit, I’d love that.  I’ll let you know when I have an idea for the next one.  Or you could let me know if you think of anything.”

“I can definitely do that.”

“Alright, it’s time for sleeps, I have to work in the morning.”

Steve kisses Bucky gently on the lips and says, “Me too, good night, Buck.”

“Good night, Stevie.  I love you.”

“I love you too.”

****

Unfortunately, they don’t see each other for a few days after their anniversary date.  Both of them get slammed at work.  Apparently, janitoring gets very intense near the end of the month, and Steve has three different tumblr commissions to work on, and four businesses have hired him to work on different projects.  And of course, Bucky is never home while Steve is nannying.  However, they text constantly, keeping each other updated on their days.  Steve always has funny stories about the kids, and Bucky has some good ones about his coworkers too.  Also, Steve sends rough drafts of his art to Bucky to get opinions and ideas.  Unfortunately, the ideas that Bucky sends are usually ridiculous.  For example, after Steve sends him a company stationary sketch, Bucky replies,  _ It needs more naked men _ .  Steve only responds with the middle finger emoji.  

Finally, on a Saturday night, they’re both free to meet for a drink.  They meet up at Steve’s apartment and head out on the town, with a plan to hit up at least one gay bar.  Bucky knows of one near Steve’s apartment, so they head there first.  It’s a pretty chill bar, not really one made for dancing and such.  However it is karaoke night, and about an hour into the evening, Bucky is drunk enough for Steve to convince him to get up and sing.  

“This one goes out to my stupid and cute boyfriend, Stevie,” he says into the mic as the music starts playing.  “This is ‘My Love’ by Thor.”  He starts singing the song, one he’s sang to Steve while drunk a million times.  Thor is a queer indie artist that Bucky is obsessed with, and he insists that every love song he’s ever written is his and Steve’s song.  As Bucky croons into the mic, Steve’s face turns red, rolling his eyes when Bucky points him out to the drunk and swaying gays around them.  

When the song ends, Bucky stumbles back over to Steve and sloppily kisses him on the mouth as the next patron goes up to the karaoke mic.

“Holy shit,” Steve mumbles before he starts giggling uncontrollably.  “Holy shit, Bucky look,” he finally manages to say, pointing at the tiny stage.

A god with long flowing blond hair starts to talk, and Steve has to catch Bucky as he almost falls over.

“That was a truly incredible version of the song, sir,” the man says with a mesmerizing British accent.  “I definitely need to feature you on my next album.”

As pale as a ghost, Bucky says, “Holy shit, Thor just saw me sing his song, Steve, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”  He grabs onto Steve’s arm to keep him steady, but only makes him lose his balance.  

Thor smiles at them, and they both swoon.  His teeth are whiter than a girl with an infinity symbol tattoo, and his stubble is scruffy but  _ so _ attractive.

“Steve, I’m gonna die,” Bucky whispers.

“Honestly, me too,” Steve agrees.

Then Thor starts to sing and the entire bar probably feels the same way.  He sings one of his own songs, which normally Steve would think is pretty narcissistic, but as drunk as he is, he doesn’t really give a shit.  He looks over to see Bucky singing along with actual tears running down his face.  

“Oh honey,” Steve says and then he pulls him in for a college-esque makeout session.  Around them, a few boys cheer, joining in on the activity.  The two stop before the rest of the bar’s patrons, and with everyone busy making out with their significant others — or just the person standing closest to them — Steve hits up the bar to purchase a shot each for himself and Bucky.  

“Last one!” Steve shouts, suddenly a little worried that he won’t be able to get the two of them home.  Bucky nods, they take the shot, and he pulls Steve back in for more making out.   Before long, the bar gets even more crowded as people hear of Thor’s appearance, and it makes Steve a tiny bit anxious, so he tugs at Bucky’s sleeve, which is difficult due to Bucky’s inability to stand still.   When he finally gets his boyfriend’s attention, he holds the man’s chin and yells, “I’m ready to go if that’s okay?”

Bucky’s face falls.  “But Thor…”  Then he looks around and realizes just how crowded it is.  “Okay, let’s go.”  Bucky goes up to the bar to make sure they don’t have the rest of a tab to pay and tips the bartender as well.

Outside, the fresh air feels really nice.  It might not even be September yet, but Steve can feel autumn coming, exciting him.

“Oh god, Bucky, I can’t wait for Fall.”

“You can’t wait to fall?” Bucky tries.

Steve barks a laugh that is louder than Bucky’s response really should, but says, “No, dummy.  I can’t wait for  _ Fall _ .  The season?  Autumn?”

“Ooohhhhh,” Bucky says, dragging out his noise of understanding.  “When the leaves do the thing!”

“Yeah, the leaves do the thing!  And sweater weather.  I fucking love sweater weather.”

Bucky smiles blissfully, and drapes his arm over Steve’s shoulder.  “I know.  You wore a sweater when we first had sex, you fucking nerd.”

“You liked it enough to have sex with me!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but doesn’t come up with anything.  “Touche,” he eventually allows.  They walk down the street for a little longer until he asks, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

Steve’s face scrunches up.  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it?  But I’m comfortable around you enough to ask.  And I don’t do it that often, just when I’m drunk.”

“Well, yeah, go ahead, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, babe.”  Bucky pulls out a cigarette and lights it.  Steve reaches down to hold his hand, and they walk down the street.  They walk in comfortable silence until Bucky says, “Holy shit…  We just met Thor?”

Steve laughs, squeezing Bucky’s hand.  “We really did, oh my god.  That was totally insane.”

“For real!  I can’t believe you let me sing his fucking song in front of him.  And not well, too!”

“I didn’t know he was there!” Steve protests.  “And it was a great rendition, babe, I promise.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and stumbles a bit, cracking both of them up.  “My god, we’re a mess.”

“A  _ hot _ mess,” corrects Steve.  

Eventually, they somehow get back to Steve’s apartment, where they have to stumble up the stairs because the elevator is broken.  Steve manages for the most part, while Bucky ends up crawling up the stairs on all fours.  They’re both panting when they reach the eighth floor and immediately collapse on the bed.  

“Hey Steve,” Bucky mumbles, managing to slur the only two words he says.  

“Yeah?”

“I’m too tired and drunk to fuck, is that okay?”

“Of course, baby.  I’m also tired and drunk, so maybe we should just cuddle.  We can do the morning sex in the morning like that one time once we’re less tired and not drunk.”  Steve curls up to Bucky, pulling him into the little spoon position.  

Hugging Steve’s arm close to himself, Bucky says, “You’re a fucking genius, Steve.  I’m dating a fucking genius.”

Steve smiles, already falling asleep.


	6. Everything Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for some ANGST my guys. Also, trigger warning for car accidents, just in case.

_ September _

The crunch of metal on metal.  The copper taste of blood in his mouth.  The pain of his ribs breaking in several places.  Bucky’s head is spinning.

“Oh fuck, oh shit!  Bucky?” he hears Vlad say.  He knows Vlad is next to him, but he sounds like he’s miles away and underwater.  “Bucky are you okay?  You look like shit, oh fuck.”

“I feel like shit,” Bucky grunts.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I think.  And by fine, I mean not dead.”  

Bucky hears cops outside the car and asks Vlad, “Are there cops on your side?”

“No.  They’re all on yours.”

“Fuck.”  Bucky spits out blood.  “Get out of here.  Run.”

“But Bucky—”

“Go.  Don’t look back, I’ll be fine.  I won’t say anything.  I’ll call someone not related to make bail.   _ Go _ .”

“Fuck.  Okay, I’m sorry, Bucky.”

Vlad runs.  Bucky can’t move to see if he makes it.  Or rather, he doesn’t move.  He knows if he does, he’ll injure himself even more.

“Fuck,” he mutters, tears forcing their way down his cheeks.  His breaths come too short and too fast.  His chest tightens and he feels as if he can’t breathe at all.  He loses feeling in his left arm as it is pinned in by the dented car door.  His vision goes spotty and suddenly…  Steve.  The last thing he sees before he passes out is Steve.

****

_ December _

It’s 2:37am and Steve has finally fallen asleep despite the December chill that invades his room—he and Peggy should get the heat fixed—when his phone rings, waking him right up.  It might be…

Caller ID flashes “Unknown Number.”

“H’lo?” he mumbles, sinking back into the pillow.

“Mm, your voice is sexy when you’re half asleep.”

“Bucky?”  Steve sits straight up, so happy to hear his boyfriend’s voice.  Or… is he still Steve’s boyfriend?  “Buck, where the fuck have you been?  I haven’t heard from you in months.   _ Months _ , Bucky.”

Bucky chuckles slowly.  “Yeah.  I’m sorry about that.  But I’ve been a little, um, incapacitated.”

“Finish up, kid,” someone says on Bucky’s end.  “You got two minutes.”

“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Bucky says, his voice cracking.  “Fuck, I’m so so sorry.”

Steve’s voice quivers.  “Bucky, what’s wrong?”

“Uh, I got arrested?”

That gets Steve on his feet.  “What?”

“The fucking cops thought I was someone  _ that I’m not _ ,” Bucky clearly isn’t speaking to him.  “Anyway.  They thought I was someone else, so they rammed their fucking car into mine?  So, uh, that fucked me up really bad.  So I was in the hospital for a few months which sucked.  But, um, I need you to come pick me up tomorrow at the New York County Sherrif’s Office.  And pay my bail.”

“Fuck.  But you’re not who they’re looking for?”

“Yeah, well they aren’t convinced.  Please, Stevie.  I’ll pay you back right away.  You’ve got to come, Steve.  Bail is $100,000, but you’ll only need to pay 10%.”

“A hundred thousand dollars, Bucky?  I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Fuck…  Maybe the May-Coulson’s will give you a loan?”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Or, you know, someone else in the building?”

“I—  Okay.”  Steve realizes Bucky is trying not to name Clint or Natasha for some reason.  He continues, “Shit, Buck, I’ve got work in the morning, winter break started and the kids are out of school...”

A voice cuts in, “Okay, kid your time is up.  Make sure he’s coming and say goodbye.”

“It’s fine, just get me at some point,  _ please _ .”

“Of course.  Okay.  I’ll be there.  Tomorrow evening.  I promise.”

“Thank you.  I love you.”

“I love you—” 

The call cuts out.

“Too.”

****

_ September _

It’s the obnoxious beeping that creeps in Bucky’s consciousness first.  A rhythmic, beep… beep… beep.  He opens his eyes, but the harshness of the fluorescent lights, forces him to shut them immediately.  He groans and tries to make words, but the drugs that are keeping him sedated are still heavy.  Something is wrong, he can feel it.  Something is missing.  He tries to move, but handcuffs keep him chained to the bed.

“Fuck,” he manages to announce.

He hears someone open a door and call, “Nurse?  He’s awake.”

There is shuffling and a shrill voice says, “Hi, James.  I know you’re just coming out of heavy sedation, and it’s a struggle for you to pay attention, so I’ll be quick.  James, my name is Sharon, I’m a nurse here at Lennox Hill Hospital.  You were in a nasty car wreck after a police chase, which is why you’re handcuffed.  Although, I don’t see the point; you’re not exactly going to get up and run.”

“Ma’am,” the voice from before warns.  

“Sorry.  James, you’ve been out for almost 48 hours.  I’m going to let you rest some more.  We can talk again when you’re more aware of your surroundings.  Officer,” she stops talking to Bucky.  Bucky’s not an officer.  “If he fully wakes up, let me know.  He’ll probably be in and out of consciousness for a while.”  Then to Bucky, she says, “You let someone know if you need anything, James.”

_ Fuck.  A car accident.  Police chase.  Shit _ , he thinks before drifting off again.

 

This time it’s a conversation that drags Bucky out of his slumber.  

“...known members named James Barnes.  It’s not even a very Russian name.”

“Still.  I  _ know _ there was someone else in the car.  But it was hard to see the other side of the SUV with Jerry’s fucking squad car  _ in  _ the front seat.”

Everything hurts.  The second voice is the same as before.  Bucky tries to speak again, and only a moan comes out.  His throat is dry, his lips are cracked, and everything hurts.  

“Shit, he’s awake.  Go get the nurse.”  It’s a woman speaking.

“Steve,” Bucky tries to say.  All he wants is Steve.

“Hold on, I’ll get you some water.”  A sink runs for a second, and Bucky opens his eyes.  He squints, but manages to keep them open.  A young woman in a dark blue uniform appears in his line of vision, little paper cup in her hand.  “Here you go, kid.  Slowly.  Take it slow.”

Bucky obeys, sipping slowly.  He clears his throat when the nurse comes in; he can’t remember her name.  

“Hi, James.”

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name’s Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky.  I don’t know if you remember, but you woke up a couple hours ago and I introduced myself.  Sharon Carter.”

Bucky smiles slyly.  “Bucky Barnes.  Nice to meet you.”

Sharon responds with a warm grin.  “Do you know where you are?”

“A hospital.  I don’t remember which one you said.”  His voice gets clearer as he keeps talking.  Something is definitely wrong though.

“Yes, that’s right.  I mentioned it before, you were involved in a very serious car accident after a police chase.”

“It wasn’t me,” Bucky attempts weakly.  “I didn’t think they were coming for me.  I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Sharon bites her lip.  

“Something’s wrong,” Bucky states.  “I can’t tell what it is, but something really fucking big happened, and everything hurts.”  He starts to hyperventilate and the nurse sits on the side of his bed, rubbing his chest.  Steve does that.

“Yes, Bucky, a police car rammed into the driver’s side of your vehicle, and you suffered some very serious injuries.  It’s a miracle you got to us in time, otherwise you probably wouldn’t have made it.  You lost a lot of blood, and you hit your head pretty bad, but luckily it was only a severe concussion.”

“Luckily?”

“It’s preferred to a major Traumatic Brain Injury.  And you shouldn’t suffer from too many cognitive problems in the future.”

Bucky takes a deep breath.  “Okay.  What else.  Something else happened, didn’t it?  Something more serious?”

Sharon looks down and then into Bucky’s eyes.  “Bucky.  When your cars collided, your left arm was not only crushed, but severely lacerated by a piece of glass.”

_ Fuck _ , he thinks,  _ I can’t feel it.  Oh god, my arm is paralyzed _ .

“We tried to regain blood flow, but unfortunately, your nerves were completely shot, and there are huge risks to keeping an unusable arm, especially one so susceptible to infection.  So, the doctors made the decision to amputate, Bucky.”

Silence.  With all the air sucked out of his chest, Bucky tries to think of something to say.

“I know, it’s a lot to take in, Bucky, but I promise you, it was the best course of action.”

“Holy fuck,” Bucky manages.  He feels sick, motions to Sharon, who thankfully understands and grabs a bucket.  After he empties the contents of his stomach, he sits back and wipes his mouth with his hand.  His right hand.  His only hand.  “Holy shit.”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.  It’s going to be a huge adjustment, and you’ll need a lot of physical therapy, but I’m confident you can get through this.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bucky cries.  “You don’t even know me!  I-I can’t do this!  I’m so fucked, oh my god.  My job.  I won’t be able to do my job, and, and…  Steve.  I need to call Steve.”

“Sorry, kid, you can’t do that,” one of the police officer in the corner tells him.  “No phone calls until you’re out of here.”

Silent tears flow down Bucky’s cheeks and he covers his face with his hands—hand.  He can’t look, but he recognizes the feeling now.  It’s gone.  His entire left arm is gone.  “You fucking assholes!” he screams at the officers.  “You did this!  You took my fucking arm, you sick fucks.  I’m gonna fucking sue you all!  Fuck.”  Bucky’s voice breaks and he sobs loudly, the police officers looking awkwardly at each other, and Sharon still rubbing his chest.  He’s hyperventilating, and the beeps get faster as his heart rate speeds up with anxiety.  “Oh my god, what am I going to tell Steve?  Please.  Please let me talk to Stevie.”

 

The next few weeks are grueling and exhausting and stupid.  Bucky wants to quit.  He wants to give up.  He wants to drown in his tears, and never face anyone ever again.  For the most part, he sits and stares out of his hospital room’s window at people who are living.  People who have two arms.  He’s endured police questioning, physical therapy, and sessions with a therapist.  Somehow, in his heavily drugged state, he’s managed to mostly convince the cops that he isn’t involved with the Russian mob, and he mentally thanks his late mother for naming him after a fucking president.  As Bucky had avoided arrest, and because they aren’t fully convinced, they set a high bail. 

He cries at night.  Silently, so nurses, officers, and therapists don’t know.  He dreams of Steve, and wakes up crying, unable to feel him.  Hug him.  He misses Natasha and Clint.  He misses his arm.  He misses the May-Coulson kids.  So he cries.

****

_ October _

It’s been a month since Steve has spoken to Bucky.  All of a sudden, his boyfriend drops off the face of the fucking planet, and it’s fucked Steve up, big time.  Sam tries to comfort him with whiskey, Peggy buys him a really expensive art set, and everyone else tells Steve that Bucky’s a jerk.  But it can’t be that.  He couldn’t have just walked out.  Constantly worried, Steve reads obituaries, visits hospitals, and searches Bucky’s favorite bars.  Nat and Clint won’t answer their door, and Bucky’s uncle always seems to disappear into the back when he drops by the deli.

It’s mid-October, and Steve is finally trying to get back into the swing of things.  He and Sam help the kids with Halloween costumes after homework is done, and he helps Peggy plan a costume party of their own.  On a Wednesday afternoon, Steve waits at the May-Coulson’s house while Sam picks up the kids.  He smiles when the door opens and all eight kids come crashing in, yelling for Steve to get them snacks.

“Hey, calm down guys, calm down!”

“Yo, chill!” Sam yells, clearly pissed, and everyone shuts up.  

Steve’s eyebrows lift and he gives Sam a look.

“It took way too long for everyone to get in the car, there were arguments in the car, and they wouldn’t stay together in the parking garage.”

“What have we said about staying still in the parking garage?” Steve asks, crossing his arms.

No one speaks, so Steve answers for them.  “You don’t get to wander off, there are cars moving way too fast, and it is  _ so  _ dangerous.  After snack, I want you all in your rooms doing homework.”

The kids eat slowly and silently, then one by one, they make their way to their rooms.  Sam shakes his head and says, “I’m getting too old for this, Steve.”

Steve smirks and says, “Wilson, you’re 26.”

“I know, Steven, I know.”

Steve smirks and claps his friend on the back.  “We’ll be okay, Sam.  At least they’re in school now.  And tomorrow’s Saturday.  Two whole days off.”    

Sam groans and grabs a snack for himself.  “Yes, but  _ today _ .  Today we’re here until seven.  We’re gonna die, Steven.  These kids are going to bury us.”

“Nah, I think we’ll be able to fight back.  We have, like, almost 200 pounds on each of them.”

“Steven, there are eight of them.  Eight.  If they wanted to, they could stage a coup, and we’d be screwed.”

“Maybe if you joined me at the gym more often, you’d be more confident.  We can go after work?” Steve suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.  

“I’ve got a date, actually,” Sam replies, nodding at Steve’s surprise.  “It’s true, I’ve managed to find a girl who wasn’t immediately intimidated by my charm.”

“And by charm you mean your inability to form words when speaking to a pretty woman.”

Sam narrows his eyes and throws the wrapper of his granola bar at his co-nanny.  It falls to the floor, where the two of them stare at it, until Sam finally picks it up.  

 

The rest of the afternoon goes by pretty quickly, and the kids are smart enough to calmly go through bath time without any major meltdowns, their nannies rewarding them with cookies after dinner.  Sam has calmed down, and is no longer glaring at the kids, or worried about a revolt.  However, both he and Steve can’t help a sigh of relief when Melinda and Phil arrive home.  Every few weeks, the two of them have a nice dinner while Steve and Sam stay a little later than usual.  Steve makes a mental note to ask them to refrain from Friday dates.  At the end of the week, it’s exhausting to stay even a few minutes late.  He and Sam escape the apartment with the week’s checks in hand, and he pauses to look down to the end of the hall.

“Man, you’ve gotta stop.  It’s been a month.  Steve, I know you hate to hear it, but he’s gone.  Stop torturing yourself.”

“I’m just gonna knock one more time,” Steve says, taking a step.

Sam grabs his shoulders and gives him his best  _ This is a bad idea, but if I can’t stop you, you can’t come crying to me about it _ look.

“One last time.  They’re probably not home.”

He heads down to Bucky’s apartment, not looking back at Sam who shakes his head in defeat.  

He comes up to the door to hear yelling.  He doesn’t knock, not at first.  

“Why can’t we tell him, Nat?  They were…  Fuck, they were in love!”

“Clint, keep your god damn voice down!” Natasha yells.  “You know full well why we can’t tell him.  My dad would kill us.  Besides, even we don’t know exactly what’s going on!  It’s not like we can just call around and ask for him.”

“Right,  _ we  _ can’t.  But maybe Steve can.  As his boyfriend!”

Steve decides this is a good a time as any to knock.

Natasha hisses, “Fuck.” 

Then everything goes silent.  Steve knocks again.  “I know you’re in there,” he says.  “Clint, please, open the door.  Come on, man.  I don’t know what’s going on, and it’s killing me!  You said I could help, let me help…  Please.”

More silence.  For a second he considers breaking the door down.  Instead, he gives the door jam a solid punch, but not hard enough to break it.  Then he slides down the door, crumpling in front of it.  His sobs are loud enough for Natasha and Clint to hear them, and a long time coming.  After crying in front of Bucky’s apartment for 20 minutes, he doesn’t hear anything else.  

“Oh my god,” he mumbles to himself, embarrassed.  He wipes his tears away, picks himself up and walks away.  He doesn’t look back, and he won’t look back.  If no one will tell him where Bucky is, fine.  Bucky left.  He doesn’t want anyone to know where he went, and Steve understands that.  It hurts him, but he accepts it.  

 

For the next week, Steve throws himself into his art, fighting the urge to draw Bucky.  He focuses on commissions mostly, and occasionally paints something for himself.  He gives himself that week to grieve, to get over the emptiness he feels, and then it’s back to life.  He’ll dedicate himself to his work and his art, and maybe even go out with Sam on a Friday.  But he won’t think of him.  He won’t think of Bucky.  Of course that doesn’t stop him from dreaming of Bucky.

****

_ November _

Bucky is dreaming of Steve—all he ever does is sleep and dream of Steve—when Sharon gently wakes him.  

“Steve?” he asks quietly, before remembering where he is.

“Sorry, buddy, it’s just Sharon.  But I brought a visitor.”

That really wakes him.   _ Please be Steve, please be Steve _ .

The visitor walks in, wearing a crisp, expensive, all black suit.  He’s got yellow-lensed aviators on, his hair is spiked with gel, and his mustache and eyebrows are more shaped than anyone Bucky has ever seen.

“What’s up, kid?  Happy Thanksgiving,” he says, taking his shades off, and reaching for a handshake.  Bucky doesn’t reciprocate.  The guy looks unaffected.  “I get it, I’m not who you wanted to see?”

Bucky just narrows his eyes.  

“Do you know who I am?”

Bucky stares.

“Tony Stark, of Stark Industries.  I am very interested in you and your situation.”

“And what situation is that?” Bucky asks, wary, but unable to help his curiosity.  

“The whole armless situation.”

Bucky smirks and looking concerned, Sharon says, “Uh, we try to talk about it a little more sensitively than that.”

“He’s fine,” Bucky says, more grumpily than he means it.  Most of his interactions with Sharon are more grumpily than he means, but in his defence, he’s been confined to a hospital bed for two months, and he hasn’t heard from any of his friends or from… Steve… ever since.  

“Anyway, your arm,” Stark continues.  “Or rather, lack thereof.  We at Stark Industries have started a new program that you are perfect for.  It’s experimental, of course, but I think it would be a great opportunity for you.”

Bucky chews on his lip before asking, “What’s the program?”

“Stark Industries used to be a weapons manufacturing company when my father ran it, but when I was put in charge, I changed that.  We brought the future to the 21 st century.  Robots.  Not like Wall-e.  Robots that would assist surgeons, robots that could help around the house, robots.”

“Shit,” Bucky says.  “That’s fucking cool.  So what do I have to do with robots?”

Tony takes a seat, and puts his feet up on Bucky’s bed.  “We’re expanding.  My partner, both in life and work, Pepper Potts, had a genius idea.  And my other partner, both in life and work, Bruce Banner, MD, can actually bring the idea to life.  And I can pay for it.  We make a good team, the three of us.”

Bucky’s eyebrow is raised.  He thinks this Tony guy might be pumping up his curiosity to get him really invested.  It’s working, but Bucky doesn’t want him to know.  “You have two partners in life and work?”

“Polyamory, kid.”

“I thought it was polygamy.”

Tony shakes his head.  “That’s when one person has multiple spouses, but the spouses aren’t spouses to each other.  Polyamory is when three or more people are in a relationship together.”

“O...kay?” 

“So you want to know what the idea was?”

Bucky shrugs.  “Oh right, sure, why not?”

“So we’ve got robots that help people, right?” Tony starts, gesturing way more than he has to.  “They’ve got specific functions, and they’re programmed to carry out those functions.  Pepper thought we take robot tech, but instead of programming it for specific tasks or functions, we connect it to a person’s brain, and they control the robot as if it is a natural reflex.  Dr. Banner believes we can work on something like this especially if we start with--”

“Prosthetics,” Bucky says before Tony can finish.

Tony smiles.  “Exactly.  We can come up with innovative stuff after we practice with things we already understand.  I.e., we know how an arm works.  We know what it’s supposed to do, we know what parts of the brain deal with movement, et cetera.”

Nodding, Bucky asks, “You haven’t started?”

“No,” Tony responds, shaking his head.  “We have to start with a trial first, obviously, and we’re looking for volunteers.  Which is why we’ve come to you.”

“Huh.”

“Obviously, you’ll want to think about this.  It would be an intense and mentally draining experience, so don’t decide right now.  I just wanted to introduce the idea to you.  I’ll be back soon with more specific ideas, plans, et cetera.  Then I’ll make you think about it more.  We’ll wait until you’ve recovered and are out of the hospital for a final answer.  It’s a big decision, Mr. Barnes.  But it could change your life, as well as others.”  He stands and pats Bucky on the shoulder.  “Have a good evening, Mr. Barnes.  I’ll be seeing you again shortly.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, retreating into himself.  He ignores Sharon when she comes back in to check his vitals.  Instead, a million thoughts scramble his brain.  Unsure of whether or not to take this guy’s offer seriously—he might be in prison after he’s released from the hospital anyway—and if he does, should he accept?  He doesn’t actually have much time to think about it, though.  After a round of meds, he realizes how much Tony’s visit actually took out of him.  Usually, the nurses are the only people Bucky interacts with, and none of them have nearly as much energy as Tony had.  He must have fed off of that energy, or been inspired by it, because it doesn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep again.  

 

The next few days go by slowly to Bucky’s dismay.  Having a visitor may have been exhausting, but at least it was someone who wasn’t coming to silently check on his vitals and all that.  So now that no one is visiting again, Bucky falls into a bit of a depressive episode.  Of course, Steve is the one who is on his mind.  It’s all he can do to keep from crying every time someone walks in and isn’t Steve.  He begs the nicer nurses to let him call Steve, but they all skirt around an actual answer, always glancing back at the cop who stands watch over his room.  All he wants is to curl up next to his boyfriend, but with his boyfriend not there and the inability to curl up due to everything he was connected to, he is shit out of luck.  All he can do was stare at the ceiling.

****

_ December _

As soon as he steps out of the May-Coulson apartment, Steve drops out of professional mode and goes straight into anxiety overdrive.  Sam doesn’t say anything, as he shouldn’t because Steve didn’t tell him about last night’s phone call.  Last night’s phone call that Steve had to check was still there when he woke up.  There in his received calls list was a number he didn’t have saved.  It had been real.  Bucky called him.

In the elevator, Sam rambles about a date he’d been on while Steve wrings his hands together.  He does his best to appear normal and avoid questions from Sam, so as soon as they get to the ground floor, he says goodbye and takes off to the bathroom, where he waits a second before he’s sure Sam has left.  Then he runs back to the elevator and returns to the floor he’d just been on.  He takes a deep breath as he comes up to Bucky’s door.  It’s been two months since the last time he stood here, or rather cried here.

A short knock.  From inside he hears Natasha say, “Damn,” and then footsteps.

Then nothing.  More, quieter footsteps as she hurries away from the door.

He knocks again and then says, “Guys, answer the door.  Bucky called me last night.  I’m going to get him from jail.”

More footsteps, and a thud against the door that makes Steve jerk back.  Then the door opens and he’s staring at Natasha and Clint.

“He called you?” Natasha asks.

“He called me.  I need money for bail, he said I could come here.”

Clint looks outside down the hall and then pulls Steve inside.  “How much?” he asks when they’ve all sat down.

“What happened to him?” Natasha asks.

“Is he okay?” 

“Is it mob related?”

Steve puts his hands up.  “Slow down, guys.  It’s $10,000 and I don’t have that.  He was caught in a police chase, but I think he’s not the guy they were looking for.  But still, the chase ended in a car accident, and he’s been in the hospital for the past few months.  He sounded okay I think.  And—hold on, mob related?”

Clint says, “They only actually require ten percent for the bond, and I’ve got the money, I’ll write a check.”

“Was it mob related,” Natasha asks again.

“He… didn’t say, why?”

Natasha and Clint share a look.

Steve notices and demands, “Tell me what’s going on.  Guys, I feel helpless.”

The two of them start signing to each other and Steve drops his face in his hands.

“Please,” he begs.  

“We can’t tell you,” Clint eventually says.  “That’s for Bucky to explain.  We’re sorry you got caught up in this, Steve.  Go get Bucky, come back, and we’ll talk, okay?”

“I…”  Steve’s shoulders droop in defeat.  “Okay, we’ll be back.”  

Natasha walks him to the door and squeezes his arm in comfort.  “It’ll be okay, Steve.  Sorry we wouldn’t talk to you about anything.  We just.  We didn’t have any good information.  But he’s okay.  He’s okay.”

Steve hugs her and says, “We’ll be back soon.”  He pulls his coat on and exits the apartment.  While he’s anxious about what little Nat and Clint had told him, the relief that he’s about to see Bucky again motivates him enough to put one foot in front of the other.  Outside, the air is brisk, and Steve walks as quickly as possible to the bus stop.  He figures he’ll deal with public transit on the way there, and get an uber or something on the way back.  The worst part will be the fifteen minute walk from the subway to the Sheriff’s Office, but he’s had to walk through worse weather.  Once he’s on the bus, he deposits Clint’s check into his bank account as quickly as his frozen fingers will type all the info into his bank’s app.  Before he knows it, he’s in front of the Sheriff’s Office.  

“What are you waiting for?” he whispers to himself.  “Go in!”

Five minutes.  He lets himself wait five more minutes while his thoughts move at 80 miles an hour.   _ Is Bucky okay?  Is he going to be a different person?  Are we still dating?  How does my hair look? _  He’s buzzing.  Excited and nervous.  There’s so much anticipation.   _ Move _ , he tells himself.  He takes a step.  Then another.  Then he’s inside, saying Bucky’s name, and handing his debit card to the guy behind the desk.  

“It’ll take a second, but you can wait in those seats.”

In some sort of haze, Steve sits down.  He jiggles his leg, holds his head in his hands, and time passes, but he doesn’t register it.  

“Stevie?”

It’s like the wind is knocked out of him.  Like someone hit him in the stomach.  All he wants to do is curl up in that voice and hold on to its owner.  But he can’t look up yet.  Everything hurts, he can’t breathe, and he has to stop himself from breaking down and sobbing.  

“Steve?”

Steve looks up and there he is.  His hair is longer than it was and pretty greasy.  His eyes are clouded, but still blue as ever.  Steve stands up and the guard behind Bucky leaves.  

“Buck,” Steve tries, but his voice cracks.  Bucky’s lips curve into a smile and Steve is overcome with the urge to kiss them.  It takes two long strides to cross the room, to take Bucky’s face in his hands, and to pull it towards his own.  The kiss… it’s everything.  It’s more.  It’s so  _ so  _ good.  It’s satisfying and perfect and dizzying.  It reminds Steve of the feeling he gets when he finishes a piece of art he’s been working on for months, or coming home to his mom baking cookies after school.  It’s what he imagines he’ll feel like on his wedding day, or when he welcomes his future kids into the world.  One of Bucky’s arms slips around Steve’s back, clinging to his jacket for dear life almost.  Suddenly Steve tastes salt water; he didn’t even realize he was crying.  Or maybe Bucky was.  More likely, they both were.  The moment ends, interrupted by a guard who tells them to get a room.  Steve finally pulls back and notices.  

“Bucky, your—”

“My arm, I know.  Let’s go.”  Bucky links his right arm into Steve’s left and tugs at him, to no effect.  “Steve?”

Steve stares, open mouthed at the gaping emptiness that should be his boyfriend’s arm.  Bucky pulls again, and Steve lets himself be pulled outside.  The cold startles him out of his trance.  “Shit,” he says.  “Shit, Buck, I…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky mumbles.  “I’m okay.  I’m alive.  I’m with you.”

“I’ll, um.  Hold on, let me, uh, let me call for an uber.”

Steve steps away, but Bucky doesn’t unlink his arm.  “Steve, if this is too much for you, it’s okay.  I can get an uber myself, I can get back home myself.”

Steve stops, shocked that Bucky would even suggest that.  “Bucky…  I’m here.  I’m here for you, I’m here with you.  It’s not too much, you’ll never be too much, do you understand?”

Bucky nods.

“I love you, Bucky Barnes.  You’re perfect.”

“Steve—”

He takes Bucky by the shoulders and looks him directly in the eyes.  “Bucky.  I love you.  It was shocking, that’s all.  Unexpected.  But not too much.”

Finally, Bucky unlinks his arm and instead anchors it around Steve’s shoulders, pulling the taller man down to kiss him.  “I love you,” he says when the kiss breaks.  

Caressing Bucky’s cheek, Steve smiles and replies, “The uber.”

“Yeah, it’s cold.”

“Yeah.”  

They smile; at peace despite everything.


	7. Epilogue

_ Three Years Later _

“DRIVE THE FUCKING CAR, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Bucky yells, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Jesus, that was fast,” Vlad cries, almost throwing the slushie he was holding onto the dashboard.

As Vlad hurries to put the car in drive, Bucky says, “Yeah, well now that Boris is using someone who’s  _ actually _ threatening, people give up their money faster.”  He examines the blood on the metal fingers of his prosthetic, muttering curses under his breath.

“Holy shit, did you punch the old guy?” Vlad asks.

“Their grandson is visiting, and he tried to fight me.”

“Mm, big mistake,” Vlad mumbles, knowing from personal experience.  “I hate to admit it, kid, but you’re good at this.  Too bad you didn’t get your arm chopped off ages ago.”

“Yeah, and if you stopped playing with your phone, you’d be a great driver.”

“Oh fuck off.  These people always gave me trouble, I figured it’d be the same for you.”

“How do you like driving?  You haven't really complained much for someone who got demoted.”

“Dude, I love driving.  Don’t tell anyone, but I never actually liked the violence that came with being a collector.  I’ve got a family, you know?”

Bucky chuckles.  “Shit.  Vlad the bat doesn’t like violence.  Who knew.”

“If you tell anyone, the bat  _ will  _ be making a comeback.”

“Understood,” Bucky says.  “That’s the last one, right?”

“Yeah, now you get to go back to your boy toy,” Vlad says, laughing to himself.

“He’s not my boy toy, he’s my fucking fiance, you asshole.”

“Jesus, sorry.”

They don’t talk much on the way back to the studio, where they run into Natasha and her driver, Lucy.

“So, how did your second day of collecting go?” Natasha asks, fist bumping Bucky’s prosthetic.

“God, it’s amazing.  I’ve been waiting for this for  _ years _ .”

“I’m glad it’s finally happening.  How does your arm feel?”

“Great.  There’s a reason it took Stark three years to get it absolutely perfect.  And it is perfect.  It’s essentially my old arm, but cooler.”

The two of them drop off the money they had collected, and then head out.

Natasha says, “So apparently, Steve and Clint have been doing some hardcore wedding planning.  Are we sure we want to go home right away?”

“Um, I’m going to because I’m actually  _ excited _ to get married,” Bucky replies.

“Oh my god, stop it.  I already get enough of that from Clint.  I just think marriage as an institution is dumb, but if Clint wants to do it, I’ll do it for him because I love his stupid face.”

“Oh my god, you do have a heart!”

Natasha ignores that comment and continues, “I made him promise to wait until your wedding was over to start planning ours, but I'm pretty sure he’s already got five different color themes, eight different dress designs, and I can’t even tell you how many cake ideas.”

“Steve changed his mind about our color scheme almost nine different times,” Buck says.  “I don’t think I even know the official decision.  Last time I checked, it was red, white, and blue, but I vetoed the hell out of that.”

Natasha face palms and says, “Last time Clint was telling me about it, it was pink and blue.  But that was a while ago.”

“Oh my god, Steve.”  He side-eyes Natasha and says, “On second thought, let’s go grab a quick drink.

She nods vigorously, links arms with Bucky and they head towards the nearest bar.

Inside, they find an open pair of bar stools, and Bucky gets the bartender’s attention.  

“What can I get you and your lady friend?” he asks, enticing a groan from Bucky and a smirk from Natasha.

“Lady friend,” she repeats.

“Natasha…” Bucky warns.

“I’m fine.  I’ll take a glass of your 100 proof vodka.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as the bartender chuckles and asks, “You mean a shot glass?”

“I mean a glass glass.  To sip.  And he’ll take a gin and tonic.” 

“How did you—”

“I know you, Bucky.  Now, could you do me a favor and roll your sleeves down so I can look at least as equally threatening as you.”

“Aw, Nat, do you—”

“Shut up, we both know I’m the most threatening, I just don’t look it.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure since the, er, upgrade, I've gotten pretty damn threatening.”

His best friend raises her eyebrow and he admits, “Okay, I'm at least as equally as threatening!”

Before Natasha can offer an argument, the bartender returns with their drinks.  Natasha pays and then takes a sip—or rather a gulp—of her drink, not breaking her eye contact with him.

His eyes widen, and he backs away.

“You’d think your need to intimidate would be satisfied by work,” Bucky says after a sip of his own drink.  “But no, you  _ have _ to scare innocent bartenders.”

“He called me your ‘lady friend.’  He totally deserved it,” Natasha grumbles, raising her glass.

He clinks his against hers, and they drink.

 

Back in Bucky and Steve’s apartment, Bucky and Natasha walk in to find Steve and Clint quietly crying, watching  _ Say Yes to the Dress _ .  

“Uh, you guys alright?” Natasha asks, running to confiscate the bowl they had clearly smoked too much of.

“They’re all just so beautiful,” Steve sobs. 

“And they’re so happy,” Clint cries.  “They’re so excited for the happiest day of their lives!”

Natasha and Bucky make concerned eye contact.

Meanwhile, the show pauses for a commercial break, and Steve gets up to hug Bucky.

“Hi, baby, how was work?” he sniffles, burying his face in his fiance’s neck.

“It was—”

“Just kidding, I don’t want to know.”

“Oh Stevie, you’re so precious.”

“I don’t want to know anything that could incriminate me!  You might be badass enough to survive prison, but I’m an  _ artist _ .  And a  _ nanny _ ! I would literally  _ die _ .”

“Steve, you’re not going to prison, I’m not going to prison, and even if we did, I’d protect you!”

Steve’s hug gets tighter and he says, “Oh thank god.  I love you, Bucky.”

Natasha laughs and says, “Come on, Clint, we should leave these two alone.”

“But Nat, it’s almost over!  Just let us finish!”

“Yeah, Nat, let him stay,” Steve whines, running back to the couch.

“Fine, but as soon as it’s over, we’re going home.”

She doesn’t get a response; the commercials have ended.  She looks down at the pipe in her hand and says to Bucky, “I don’t think we can catch up, but we can at least try.”

He smiles and pulls a lighter out of his pocket.  “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Weird, usually the saying is, ‘great minds think alike,’ but in this case it’s ‘average mind thinks like great mind.’”

“Hey, don’t belittle yourself!  Your mind might not be great, but it’s at least a little above average.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and reaches for the lighter.  After she and Bucky each take a hit, Bucky says, “So I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Yes, I’ll be your best man,” she replies.”

“Oh,” he says, looking around awkwardly.  “I was gonna ask Clint to be my best man…”

Natasha looks taken aback.  “What?!”  She babbles about how long they’d known each other, and how close they are, and—

“Natasha, chill out,” Bucky says, laughing.  “I want Clint to be my best man, and you to be my maid of honor.”  He pauses for a second and takes in the sight of Natasha with her eyes narrowed.  “Bro of honor.”

“What?”

“Steve and I are gonna have a best man and a maid of honor each.  If you don’t like the term maid of honor, I can change it to bro.

“Huh,” Natasha says, thinking.  “Can Clint and I switch?”

Bucky laughs.  “Absolutely.”

“Good, I’ll do it.”  She takes another hit, and asks “Who is Steve asking?”

“Sam for his best man, and Peggy for maid of honor.”

“His ex-girlfriend is going to be  _ in _ the wedding party?”

“Oh, come on, it’s Peggy.”

“I guess.”

A few hits later,  _ Say Yes to the Dress  _ ends, and Clint sulks over, wiping away tears.

“Nat, it’s over,” he says.  “Bucky, your boyfriend is passed out on the couch.”

“Alright, we should get going,” Natasha says, standing to support her boyfriend.  “But first, you should ask Clint that question, Bucky.”  She winks very obviously.

“Oh right.  Clint, do you wanna be my maid of honor?”

Clint’s jaw drops and his eyes tear up again, and he says, “James Buchanan Barnes, I would be  _ honored _ .”  The tears spill over.  “I love you so much, man.”  He lets go of Natasha and practically falls into Bucky.

“I love you too, Clinton Francis Barton.”

A bark of laughter explodes from the couch.  “You’re middle name is Francis?!”

“Alright, buddy, let’s go home,” Natasha says, patting Clint on the back.

“But home is so far away,” he complains.

“It’s literally one floor up.  You can do it.”  She lifts his arms over her shoulders and kisses Bucky on the cheek.  “Night, Bucky.”

“G’night, Nat.”  He locks the door after his friends and heads to the couch where Steve has passed back out.  “Stevie…” he whispers.  “Stevie, get up, let’s go to bed.”

“Shhh, I’m sleepy,” Steve mumbles.

“Come on, babe, I’ve got an appointment with Tony and Dr. Banner tomorrow, I have to sleep.”

“Mmkay, good night.”

“Okay, so you’re just gonna sleep on the couch?”

“Uh huh.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and mutters, “I  _ should _ just let you wake up to a sore neck.”  But he won’t, because he adores Steve with his entire physical and mental being.  So he sighs before bending at the knees to pick Steve up.  Luckily, Stark did something freaking awesome to make his metal prosthetic hella strong, and it isn’t actually too difficult to lift Steve.

In the bedroom, Bucky drops Steve in bed and hits the bathroom to brush his teeth.  Before joining Steve, he carefully takes off his prosthetic and rubs a bit of lotion on his shoulder.  Then he climbs in bed.  He kisses Steve on the forehead and goes to turn off the light.  But first, he smiles at the picture frame on his bedside table.  In it, the envelope drawing Steve had done almost four years ago.  Since that day, Steve had added himself to the picture, and it’s one of the last things that Bucky sees every night.

“Good night, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, turning off the light and rolling to curl up next to his favorite person in the whole world.  “I hope I dream of you.”

The only response he gets is a light snore.  It makes him smile.

****

When Steve hears Bucky’s blaring alarm, he knows they’re in trouble.  Bucky always has at least four alarms to wake the two of them up, but the first few are usually quieter and more chill.  A song or soft tone to wake them up gently.  But this one—the tone that is so aptly named “alarm”—this one is the panic alarm.  The “get the fuck up or you’re going to be late” alarm.  So when the noise seeps through Steve’s unconscious enough to wake him, he groans, “Fuuuuck.”

Next to him, Bucky jerks awake, yelling nonsensically.  Sitting up in bed, he manages to say, “Steve, my arm’s asleep, you gotta get it.”  Then he lays back down.

So Steve groans again, picks himself up, and leans over his boyfriend to search for his phone.  He feels the charger cable and lunges, accidentally knocking it off the bedside table.

“Steve, turn it off!” Bucky yells, underneath him.

“I’m fucking try—Oh god!”  He leans too much and ends up tumbling off the bed into a somersault, banging his foot on the bathroom door.  “FUCK ME.”

“Later,” Bucky mumbles, attempting to wiggle his arm awake.

“Fuck, where the fuck…”  Finally, Steve finds the phone and manages to shut the alarm off.  “What time was that appointment again?”

“Eleven o’clock.”

Steve bites his lip.  “Shit, we’ve only got twenty minutes ‘til we need to be out of the house.  We can shower together.”

Bucky sits up and raises an eyebrow, his long hair a ridiculous mess.  “Oo lala.”

“Get up, you ass.”

“Wait, I need you to hit my arm!  It’s like waking up without an arm all over again, except this time it’s still there, I just can’t do anything with it.”

Steve pauses, shrugs, and then slaps at the arm, waiting for Bucky to move it.  And it looks like he is hardcore struggling with that.  But eventually… finally, his fingers wiggle.

“Phew, thanks, babe.  I would’ve slapped it myself, but, you know… it’s the only arm I’ve got.”

“Hit the shower, babe.”

“Yes, sir!”  Bucky hops out of bed and hurries into the bathroom, followed by Steve.  Despite sleeping in his clothes, Steve strips quickly, and stifles his laughter as he watches Bucky struggle to pull off his boxers with one, still mostly useless arm.

“Hey, that’s ableist,” Bucky grumbles when he catches him.

“I’m sorry, I love you!”

Bucky rolls his eyes.  “I love you too, but for the love of god, help me.”

With his hand, Steve turns on the water of the shower, and with his toes he pulls down Bucky’s underwear.  When Bucky looks at him, deadpan, he barks out a laugh, and then pulls the man into a tight embrace from behind.

“Woah, calm down there boy,” Bucky says, looking down.

“Shit, Buck,” Steve says, also looking down.  “We don’t have time for that.”

Bucky turns around, offended.  “It’s your dick that’s doing it!”

“You know it.”

“Jesus Christ, Steven,” Bucky sighs, feeling the shower’s temperature with his now mostly functional arm.  “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

The two hop in and make quick work of bathing.  They’ve gotten shared, non sexual showers down to a science, especially when it comes to switching who gets to stand under the stream of water.

When they finish, Steve helps Bucky get his arm on, connecting all the wires to their proper ports on Bucky’s shoulder.  Then they quickly get dressed and hurry out to the kitchen where Steve grabs them a couple of breakfast bars.

“Aw, shit,” he hears Bucky say behind him.

“You alright?” he asks.

He turns to see Bucky rubbing at the knuckles of his metal prosthetic.  “Yeah, I just forgot to clean the blood off of my hand last night.”

“Jesus, Buck, what did you do!?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know anything incriminating,” Bucky mocks, licking his flesh thumb to have another go at the bloodstain.

Steve rolls his eyes and says, “No, you’re right, I really don’t want to know.”  He grabs a paper towel, runs it under the sink for a second and hands it to Bucky.  “We have to go.”

Bucky nods, following Steve out of the apartment, going to work on his knuckles with the paper towel.  “This doesn’t look suspicious, right?”

“Oh no, of course not,” Steve answers sarcastically, as they get in the elevator.

They take Bucky’s car, instead of dealing with calling an uber, hoping to the gods that the traffic isn’t too horrible.  In the car, Bucky says, “So you’re okay with coming?”

Driving, Steve raises an eyebrow.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, Tony’s your ex and it didn’t end well, and the past three times you came to see him with me, you ended up yelling and storming out.”

“That only happened the first two years you were seeing him.”

“Yeah, because you didn’t come with me at all last year.  Because of the fact that Tony’s your ex and it didn’t end well, and the past three times you came to see him with me, you ended up yelling and storming out.”

Steve side-eyes his boyfriend.  “I’ll be good, I promise.  We weren’t engaged last year, but we are now, so it’ll be fine.  I’ll be fine.”

“If you storm out, no sex for you.”

“Ha!  Like  _ you _ could withhold sex from  _ me _ .”

“Fine, if you storm out, you owe me twenty dollars.”

Steve thinks on it and eventually decides, “That’s fair.  It’s a deal.”

When they arrive at Stark tower—thirteen minutes late, oops—Steve feels ansty, but he tries his best not to show it.  Of course, Bucky notices anyway.

“Steve, if you want to go, that’s fine.  Go get coffee, I’ll text you when I’m done,” he says, nudging Steve’s arm.

“No, I’m staying.  For you.”  Steve takes Bucky’s metal hand, and rubs it with his thumb, even though, he doesn’t think Bucky can feel it.  

Bucky rubs his thumb back, though.  “It’s just a routine checkup after work last night to make sure everything is working perfectly.  I’ll be okay alone.”

“No, I want to be here, okay?”  He doesn’t just want to be with Bucky though.  He wants to show Tony that he loves Bucky and that he’s committed himself to Bucky.  That was Tony’s problem when they were together.  He didn’t think Steve could, or would, commit.  He thought Steve was afraid of commitment.  That was the main reason Tony broke up with him.  And he was, technically.  But it’s because he was just a kid when they had dated.  He was only 20 when they first got together, not even old enough to legally drink, so of course he wasn’t thinking of making a commitment.  Tony was ten years older than him, he was a millionaire, genius, playboy, and to Steve, he was a rockstar.  Steve idolized him.  Until he didn’t.  That was another reason they broke up.  But Steve hadn’t realized that until later, after the breakup had already fucked him up.  He thought he loved Tony, and Tony thought so too.  But Steve didn’t know love until he met Bucky.  And now, that’s all there is.  There is so much love between him and Bucky, it’s like they were made for each other.  

“Well if it isn’t my favorite patient,” a man in a lab coat says, walking up to them.  Dr. Bruce Banner.  He and Steve had only met once, and he seemed like a nice enough guy.

“I bet you say that to all your patients,” Bucky says, shaking the doctor’s hand.

“You’re late,” someone says behind them.  Tony.

“I know, I’m sorry.  Work went late, and I only woke up to my last alarm.”

“I guess we’ll let it slide,” Tony says, smiling that pearly white smile that had first attracted Steve.  “Rogers.”  Tony used to call him Captain Rogers.  But now it’s just Rogers.  “It’s been a while.”

“Tony,” Steve says, not curtly, but not incredibly excited to see him. 

There’s an awkward pause before the doctor says, “So, let’s head straight upstair, shall we?”

“That sounds good,” Bucky says, nodding like he’s overcompensating for the awkwardness.  The four of them head to the elevators, and wait for one in silence.  Then they get into the first open one in silence.  About halfway up to the almost top floor, Tony says, “So this weather we’re having is great.”

“I know, so good, especially for this early in March,” Bucky agrees.  

Dr. Banner nods.  “So much better than last year’s constant sleet.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.  He stands rigid, and stares straight ahead, but still holding Bucky’s hand.  He knows Bucky notices how uncomfortable he feels when the metal hand gently squeezes his, and the flesh hand rubs his arm soothingly.  It prompts Steve to look over at his future husband, and calm down a little.  

Once they actually get to lab—Dr. Banner calls it his office—things get a little more relaxed.  Banner starts right in on the medical exam, making it seem like a normal doctor’s appointment.

As he checks Bucky’s reflexes, he asks a number of questions, such as, “How is the chafing on your shoulder?”  “Are the headaches getting better?”  “How difficult is it to take the prosthetic on and off?” 

All the while, Tony types on his iPad, assumedly taking notes on Bucky’s responses, which include, “I’m using lotion, so it isn’t too bad, just a little sore at the end of the night.”  “I haven't had a headache in a couple months, so that’s good.”  “Taking it off is fine, but Steve usually has to help me get it on.”

“Well it’s a good thing you have Steve then,” Dr. Banner comments.

“I bet it is,” Tony mutters.

Steve keeps any comments he might have—many—to himself.

When Banner’s exam is over, Tony hands him the iPad and rubs his hands together.  “Goody, it’s my turn.  Let’s talk technology, Bucky.  How are the touch sensors working?  Can you feel anything?  Some things?  Most things?  All things?”

“Uh, I’d say most things on my hands, and some things on my arm.  Like, I can feel Steve’s hand in mine, or I felt a little bit of, what would have been normal, discomfort when I punched someone yesterday.”

“Oo, that sounds fun,” Tony says.

“Oh, the other day, I hit my elbow where my funny bone would have been, and it hurt like I’d hit my funny bone.”

Tony nods, taking the arm in his hand and examining it.  “Ah, good.  We wanted to make feel as normal as possible, so I thought I’d put something like that nerve in there.  Although, I don’t think you’re going for ‘as normal as possible’ what with sticking with the original shiny metal model.”

Bucky shrugs.  “It looks cool as fuck, why wouldn’t I want the shiny metal arm?”

“Fair point,” Tony says.  “So, it looks like you’re taking good care of it maintenance wise.”

“Yeah, Steve makes sure I wash it almost every night.”

“Almost?”

Steve can’t help but grin when he says “I wasn’t too helpful last night.”

“Well, try to be more helpful, then…” Tony says.  “Alright, I’m gonna take it off for a second to do a diagnostic check, but you should be good to go.  And I won’t have to see you back for a while, unless something happens.”

Steve steps over to Bucky after the arm comes off and says, “So this is it then?  This is the official finished product, and the arm is ours to keep forever?”

“Unless it malfunctions or you break it or something,” Dr. Banner says, checking out the scar tissue of Bucky’s stump.

“Cool.”

“Why do you ask?” Bucky wonders.  

“Oh, no reason.  But I will have to borrow the arm when we get home.”

“Steven, the arm is not a toy,” Tony says with what Steve used to call his “dad voice.”

Steve rolls his eyes.  “I know that.  I won’t do anything that will hurt it, obviously.”

Tony cocks his head and gives a fake smile.  “That’s what you said about my  _ very _ expensive car.”

Steve makes eye contact with Bucky and they have a conversation without talking that goes something like:

Steve: He—

Bucky: Steve, chill.

Steve, however, doesn’t chill, and says, “Tony, it was  _ barely  _ a scratch, and it wasn’t even my fault!  Some asshole hit it a  _ tiny _ little bit opening his door.  I mean, it probably didn’t even make a dent in your money.”

“The money wasn’t the point, Steve, I trusted you with the car and I shouldn’t have!”

Dr. Banner intervenes before the appointment ends like the last time.  “Okay, everyone.  Tony, why don’t you go to your office, I’ll bring the results of the diagnostics check up to you when it’s finished.”

Without a word, only a nod, Tony leaves the room, sagging his shoulders a little.  Bucky turns to Steve and says, “Steve—”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Dr. Banner says.  “I told him to behave, but you know how he doesn’t let things go.”

Steve shrugs and says, “Yeah.  But Bucky mentioned he seems pretty happy with you and Pepper, so that’s good.”

“Yeah, we love him and know how to keep his ego in check.  If it makes you feel better, one night recently he got really drunk and admitted he’s glad you’re with Bucky.  He wants you to be happy, you know.”

“Really?” Steve says, genuinely surprised.  “I always thought he really hated me when we broke up.”

“I think he did,” Banner says.  “Right after you broke up.  But now he realizes you were just a kid and he expected too much from you.  And he’ll never admit it, but he still feels kind of protective of you.”

“See,” Bucky says, gently touching Steve’s arm.  “He’s not as bad as you think he is.”

“I know, I know.  I just wish he didn’t feel like he had to act like an asshole.  But hopefully we won’t actually have to be back here anytime soon.”

Taking a look at the computer Bucky’s arm is attached to, Banner nods and says, “From the looks of it, you shouldn’t have to.  Everything looks good, we’ll get the arm back on and you can head out.”

Steve makes quick work of helping Bucky get the prosthetic back on, and the two head out, followed by the doctor.  At the elevator, they run into Pepper Potts, Tony and Bruce’s girlfriend, and the real head of Stark Industries.

“Ah,” Pepper says in greeting.  “That’s why Tony’s in a bad mood.  It’s your turn to deal with that, babe.”  

Bruce nods and says, “I know, I’m heading up there right now.  Steve, and Bucky have a great rest of your day.”

“You too,” Bucky says, pulling Steve into the elevator that’s going down.  Steve waves and then turns to Bucky, frowning when he sees his boyfriend’s disappointed look.  “You owe me $20, Steve.”

Mouth opened in shock, Steve places his hand on his chest.  “What?  I didn’t storm out!” 

“Tony did, it counts.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Fine, ten dollars then.”

Steve goes to argue, but thinks better of it and reaches for his wallet.  “This is not fair.  Those were not the terms we agreed on.”

“I don’t care, I’m mad at you.  We’re fighting.”

Steve gives him a puppy dog face, knowing that it’s Bucky’s weakness.  “I’m sorry, babe.  I won’t be bad next time, I promise.  After all that Dr. Banner told us, I feel a little bit bad.”

Head cocked, Bucky repeats, “A little?”

“He was the asshole in there, I was just responding.”

“What was that thing you mentioned about, uh, borrowing my arm?”

Steve smiles, glad they’re moving on from Tony.  “It’s a surprise.  You’ll like it, I promise.”

“Steve…”

“Bucky, trust me,” he says, taking Bucky’s hands in his.  “You’ll love it.”

Bucky drives on the way home, humming along to the radio as Steve scrolls through his phone.  “What are you looking at?”

Steve says, “Oh nothing.  Just something that I need when I borrow your arm.”

“Um, that’s concerning.  I’m concerned, Steve, what are you going to do to my arm.”

“You’ll seeee,” Steve teases, kissing Bucky on the cheek.  Bucky shakes his head in response.  

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ve been told.”

Back at home, Steve asks if Bucky can survive without his arm for a little bit, or if it should wait for later.  

“Let me make some food really quick, and then you can have it while I eat.  How long is it going to take?”

“Not too long,” Steve says.  “Just watch some TV while I do it.”

“I swear to god, Steve, if you fuck my arm up…”

“I won’t,” he says, grabbing bread while Bucky goes into the fridge to find lunchmeat and cheese.  Then, after Bucky’s sandwich is made, he disconnects his arm and reluctantly hands it to Steve.  

“I better get it back in one piece!” he calls after Steve, who disappears into his studio.  In the room, Steve sets the arm down on his work table, and pulls out some paints.  He’s been planning to do this for a while, but the models kept changing, and it kept needing updates.  But now with an official confirmation from Tony, it was ready.  Permanent.  Bucky is good with the prosthetic, and Steve is pretty sure he really loves it.  However, Steve can tell he doesn’t totally think of it as a part of him yet.  Steve is going to change that.  He’s going to make it more personalized, and he hopes to all the gods that Bucky likes it.  He looks at a couple pictures of Bucky before the accident for reference and picks out the perfect red.  

He takes a little bit longer than he normally would have for a simple star, but he needs to make sure it’s absolutely perfect.  So perfect that he actually takes measurements to keep it as close to the original as possible.  When it’s finished and he’s proud of it, he brings it out to where Bucky lounges on the couch, stuffing potato chips into his mouth.  He looks up when he notices Steve. 

“So what’d you do to it?” he asks, unable to see the addition Steve had made to it.

Steve clears his throat and says, “Uh, I just wanted to make it a little more comfortable for you, you know, emotionally I guess.  And this seemed the best way to do it.” 

He turns the arm, and Bucky sits straight up, hand to his mouth.  “Holy shit,” he says, reaching out for it.  

“What do you think?” Steve asks.

“Steve, holy shit,” he repeats.  Steve hands him the prosthetic and he asks, “Is it dry?”  With a nod of confirmation from Steve, he runs his fingers over the red star, and exact replica of the tattoo that had lived on his arm for a number of years before the accident.  Steve smiles when he tears up.  “Holy fucking shit, Steve.  This is…  It’s absolutely perfect.  I love it so much, you don’t even know.”

“Oh, I know.  I told you that you would.  I tried to make it as exact a replica as I could.”

“Well, you did it.  It’s literally the same.”  He hands it back to Steve and says, “Help me put it back on.”  

Steve reconnects everything for the third time that day, and steps back to admire his handiwork.  “Shit, I really did do a good job.  If your arm wasn’t, you know, silver, I don’t think I would’ve been able to tell the difference.”

“You’re too good to me, Steve,” Bucky says, standing and kissing Steve hard.  When they pull apart, he says, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Steve laughs, his smile wide.  “I love you too, Buck.”

“Less than a month,” Bucky says, referencing their wedding.  

“It can’t come soon enough.”

****

Of course, the wedding day comes, and Steve doesn’t seem to be ready for it at all.  Bucky knows that logistically, everything is ready.  The rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch, both suits are ready, and the venue is perfect; even the weather looks like it’ll hold out.  So when Steve calls Bucky the night before the wedding, Bucky isn’t quite prepared for the panic.  

“Hey, babe, you know being in constant contact isn’t making being apart easier,” Bucky says when he answers the phone.”

“Buck?” Steve says, his voice small, instantly worrying Bucky.

“Stevie?  Are you okay?”

“I’m just…”  Steve pauses and sighs.  “I’m freaking the fuck out Bucky.  Like full on panic over here.  I miss you and I need to be with you and I’m freaking out that everything is going to go terribly wrong tomorrow.  What if my mom doesn’t come?  What if Peggy decides she doesn’t want to be my Maid of Honor?  What if Sam doesn’t want to be my Best Man?  And what if Nat and Clint find something better to do!  What will we do without our wedding parties!  And what if it rains, or you die, or the guy who’s marrying us dies, or—”

“Holy shit, Steve, calm down!” Bucky says, laughing away the panic that Steve just woke up in him.  “First of all, you better knock on wood for that rain comment.  The weather is supposed to be perfect tomorrow, and I don’t need you to jinx us.”  

“Oh Jesus god,” Steve moans on the other line, but Bucky hears him knocking.  He knocks once for good measure too.

“It’s going to be okay.  I love you.  You love me.  We love each other.  We’re doing this tomorrow, it’s happening.  Even if we have to do it inside, or even if no one comes.  We’re getting fucking married.  I will not let anything get in the way of this.”

“I know, and I know everything will be fine, but I just can’t stop worrying, Buck.”

“Okay, it’s okay.”  Bucky looks down at his boxers, the rest of his body is naked.  Then he glares across the room at his prosthetic arm, which he still can’t put on all by himself.  “I’m coming over.  I’ll be there in less than fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Okay.  I’m sorry, I know it’s bad luck…”

“I believe in jinxing the weather, not ruining our marriage by coming to see you.  I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Alright.  Bye Buck.  Text me when you’re almost here.”

“Okay.  I love you Stevie.”

“Love you too.  With my whole fucking heart.”

Before Bucky leaves Natasha and Clint’s apartment, he grabs a joint, knowing it’ll take some convincing for Steve to smoke it with him, but it will definitely calm them both down.  He then writes a note to his friends letting them know where he’s going.  It’ll upset Clint that he’ll be seeing Steve on the day of the wedding, but if Steve needs him, he’s going.  Bucky wants to take his car, but without his arm, he decides it’s too much of a risk and takes a taxi instead.  Luckily, at this time of night there’s the normal amount of drunk people in taxis and ubers, but the traffic isn’t nearly as bad as during the day.

As soon as he hits the buzzer to Steve’s old apartment--Peggy still lives here--Steve buzzes him up.  Bucky has a comforting sense of deja vu as he pulls the door open and heads for the stairs because, of course, the elevator is out of order.  

When he finally makes it up to the apartment, he’s out of breath, unprepared for Steve to pull him in for a kiss.

“Steve,” he tries to say, slapping the assailant's arm.

“What?”  Steve pulls back.  “Oh shit, I’m sorry, Buck.”  

Breathing deeply, Bucky says, “I do not… miss… you living… in this apartment.”

Steve giggles and pulls Bucky inside.  “Let me get you some water, hold on.”  Bucky sits at the kitchen while Steve gets water and babbles on, “I’m sorry for making you come here, I just, I’m just anxious.  It’s stupid, but I missed you.  And I know Clint’s gonna be disappointed in us, but I also don’t care, and—”

“Steve,” Bucky says, grabbing his arm before he starts pacing.  “It’s okay, I’m here.  Sit down.”  

Steve sits on top of Bucky instead of the chair Bucky pulls out, but that’s okay.  He kisses Bucky on the mouth and says, “I love you more than anything in the whole world.”

“I love you too.  I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“Neither can I.  But also, I just want it to be over?  Is that terrible of me to say?”

“No, baby, I completely get it.  And I brought something that will help.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, but smiles when Bucky pulls out the joint.  “I love you.”

“I know.”

They don’t stay up smoking for that long, because as soon as Bucky walked in the door, Steve visibly relaxed and the weed makes them both sleepy as hell.  So, before they even finish the joint, they slink through the apartment to Steve’s old bed.  He gets right under the covers, but Bucky hits the bathroom first.  When he gets back to the bedroom, he pauses before joining Steve.  Looking around the room, his heart swells, and he suddenly tears up.  He rubs his eyes quickly, but Steve does notice, and asks, “Babe?  Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I’m just a little overwhelmed to be back here,” he says, gesturing to the room, which belongs to Peggy’s friend Daniel now.  “This is where it all started.  Where we started.”

“Oh yeah, when I fucked you for the very first time on this very bed,” Steve says, giggling.

“Well you’re high,” Bucky says, plopping down next to him.  “I was just trying to be sentimental, but that’s fine, ruin it with vulgar language.”

“Oh hush.  Nothing could ruin this,” Steve whispers, bumping his forehead against Bucky’s, rubbing their noses together.”

With a nod, Bucky sighs, “You’re right.  Everything is so perfect, I love you, and we’re getting married.”

Steve giggles again; it’s contagious, and Bucky can’t help but laugh along.  “We’re getting married.”

“We are.”

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

“I love you too, Steven Grant Rogers.”

****

Steve awakes in a panic, but it’s not his fault, and it doesn’t have anything to do with wedding anxiety.  First of all, Bucky’s last call alarm is blaring.  Secondly, there’s a banging on the door, and yelling on the other side of it.  Eventually, as Steve jerks up, the door opens and Clint comes bursting in.

“Jesus Christ, Clint!” Natasha yells, lunging after him.

“Steven and James, I am very disappointed in you!” 

“What the—”  

Next to Steve, Bucky starts to sit up, but Clint cries “Nooo!” and jumps into the bed between the two grooms.

“What the fuck, Clint!” Bucky groans.

“Everyone close your eyes!  You will not ruin this wedding by seeing each other before the ceremony.  Nat, come here and get Bucky, I’ll make sure Steve doesn’t peek.”

Natasha crosses her arms.  “I’m not doing this.”

“Clint, I can go by myself,” Bucky says, and Steve sees him standing out of the corner of his eye before Clint grabs a pillow and shoves it over his face.

Steve struggles under the pillow for a second before giving up, knowing Clint won’t quit.  He hears Bucky try to leave, and then Natasha groans as she says, “Fine, come here, Bucky.”

“What the fuck, Nat!” Bucky cries, his voice muffled halfway through the sentence.  

“Okay, hurry, leave!” Clint says.

Steve sighs under the pillow and waits until Clint finally lets him go.

“Sorry,” he says, “But you can’t see each other.”

“Really, Clint?  It’s just a dumb stereotype.”

“Fine.  Ruin your marriage.  I don’t care…”  They’re quiet.

“You care.”

“Yeah, of course I care, shut up, I have to go.”  Clint hugs him quickly and then races out of the room to follow Bucky and Natasha.  

Thankful that his guests are gone, Steve goes to lay back down, but is interrupted by Peggy, her girlfriend Angie, and a cup of coffee for each of them.  

“Well that was… eventful,” Peggy says, handing Steve his mug.  

“Things are always ‘eventful’ when Clint Barton is involved.”  Steve takes a sip and literally moans.  “Shit, I miss living with you.  No one makes coffee as well as you.”

Angie smiles at Peggy and says, “Actually, I made it.”

Steve laughs and says, “I’ll be damned, Peg.  Someone makes coffee better than you.  You two were definitely made for each other.”

“Oh my god, Steve, hush.  Now hurry up, you’ve got a man to wed.”

That makes Steve bury his face in the comforter.  “Oh my god.  It’s really happening.”

Peggy nods.  “It’s happening.  Now get your ass in the shower, we’ve got a fun brunch planned with Sam.”

Unable to lessen his smile, Steve heads to the bathroom and takes a long shower.  His anxiety from the previous night has definitely lessened, and now he’s just a little antsy.  But in an excited way.  After his shower and a clean shave, Peggy and Angie drag him out of the apartment to some restaurant, where they meet up with Sam.  

Sam, of course, is waiting with a smirk on his face.  Steve rolls his eyes as he punches him in the arm a few times.  “Today’s the day!” he says.  “My boy’s getting married!  I never thought it would happen.”

Steve raises an eyebrow.  “I’m pretty sure you’re getting me confused with you.  You’re the one who’s never gonna get married.”

“Rude,” Sam deadpans.  

“Ladies, can we go eat maybe?” Angie says as she and Peggy leave the boys on the sidewalk.  

“Seriously, man,” Sam says, holding his hand out.  “I’m really happy for you.  You and Bucky are perfect for each other, and I’m sure you’ll live happily ever after.”

Taking the hand he offered, Steve turns the handshake into a hug and says, “Thanks man, that means a lot.”

 

As cliche as Steve knows it sounds, the rest of the day goes by in a blur.  The brunch was fun, but with the actual wedding looming, he can’t think of or pay attention to anything else.  Everything just goes by and suddenly he’s sitting in front of a mirror in a tux as Peggy ties his bow tie and Angie is suffocating him with hair spray.  His mom sits in an arm chair in this little dressing room telling stories of Steve’s childhood to those in the room.  Suddenly there’s a small knock at the door and Sam answers it to find Jemma and Leo standing alone in the hallway.

“Well hey there, bunnies,” Steve says, standing and feeling completely calm for the first time all day.  “Where are your parents?”

“They’re sitting down and said we could come say hi,” Jemma answers, strutting in and flouncing her flower girl dress around.  

“Do I have to wear this?” Leo grumbles, following Jemma in and tugging at his collar.  

Steve gets on his knees and unbuttons the top button.  “Here ya go.  Is that more comfortable?”

Leo just nods.  

“Good.  If your mom sees and gets mad, blame Sam.”

Leo snickers as Sam looks offended.  

“Does it look like more people are coming, Jem?” Peggy asks, motioning for her to come by the mirror so she can fix the big pink bow in the girl’s hair.  

“Nah, I think everyone’s inside.  There are, like, a million bajillion people here.”

“That might be an exaggeration,” Steve laughs.  “Plus, I’m pretty sure most of the people are made up by your family.”

That makes both the twins laugh loudly, and Jemma almost falls over before Sam catches her.

“Hey, maybe you guys should go check on Bucky and make sure he’s almost ready,” Sam says to the kids.  “Then hurry back so we can all get in place.”

“Yayyy!  I’m so excited!” Jemma screams, grabbing Leo and running out of the room.

Steve takes a deep breath and shakes his legs.  “So,” he says before a deep breath.

“So,” Peggy repeats.  

“It’s happening.  I’m getting married.”

“You are,” she says.  “I’m so happy for you, Steve.  You know I love you with my whole heart, and I’m so so so glad you met Bucky.  You two are going to be so happy together.”

There’s a tap on the door, and the officiant steps in to let them know that everyone is ready for him.  

Sam motions to Peggy and Angie and says, “Steve, we’ll come get you and your mom when Bucky’s on his way down the aisle.”

Steve nods, knowing if he speaks, his voice will shake and might start crying before he sees his future husband.  

He turns to his mom, who opens her arms to give him a hug, and he hurries into them.

“I love you, Stevie.  And I know you.  I know you’re anxious, but I promise, as soon as you see him you’ll be okay.  And I know, because that’s exactly what happened when I saw your father waiting for me.  If he were here, he’d be so happy for you, baby.”

“I wish he was here.  But I’m so glad you are.  I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, sweetpea.  Now let’s get you hitched?”

Steve nods, and takes her hand as Sam pops his head through the door to beckon them.  His heart pounds and his palms are sweaty as they reach the back of the aisle.  He doesn’t look up though.  Not right away.  He wants to be prepared.  So after his mother has a firm grasp on his arm and they take the first step down the aisle, towards his future with Bucky, he finally looks up.  And there waiting for him at the end is Bucky.  His Bucky.  And his mom was right.  

As soon as he and Bucky lock eyes, everything he has ever worried about has washed away, leaving him light and downright giddy.  It’s like he’s dreaming.  Of him.  Of his Bucky.  Everyone in the room disappears, and it’s just the two of them, Steve and Bucky, together and in love, just the way it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so, so, so much for reading my fic. This was my first Stucky Big Bang, and I had the best time writing my fic, working with my artists, and seeing what they came up with. You can find Hannah on her [tumblr](sundaecherries.tumblr.com), and Kim on [hers](http://happylaune.tumblr.com). They're both super talented and made me really incredible pieces that I'm eternally grateful for! 
> 
> I'd love to hear any feedback you guys have, and I'd especially love to know people's favorite parts of the fic, so feel free to drop a comment! I can't wait for next year's Bang! <3


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